


Familiar Strangers

by maychorian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Meditation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: SG-1 gets to go to another galaxy. Yay! Or maybe not so yay, since there are bad guys there, too. And good ones. Yay! Yeah, it's gonna be another one of those days.Originally posted to ff.n on 09-23-06.





	1. The Second of Two Options

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is a weird one. It's incomplete, but it stops at kind of good stopping point.

Colonel Jack O'Neill stepped through the gate and scowled at the landscape. More trees. Great. And rocks. Lots of lovely rocks, too. Some hills, curving around them . . . the Stargate seemed to be in the bottom of a bowl-shaped depression. No signs of civilization. The rocks around the Stargate weren't even in a circular pattern indicating that this had once been a temple. Unusual, but not unheard of. Apparently the Goa'uld hadn't used this particular gate for a long, long time.

Behind him came the slurpy wet sound of someone stepping through the wormhole, and Major Samantha Carter immediately started chattering. "Sir, can you believe that we're actually in a completely other galaxy, completely separate from any we've visited before? From the all indications in the Abydos map room, this might even be the only gate in this entire galaxy! Apparently the Goa'uld weren't able to gain a foothold here, and it certainly would be fascinating to find out why. Perhaps the indigenous species here were too advanced, were able to fight off a Goa'uld invasion. If that's true, this could be our best chance yet to find allies and technology that could help us fight them."

Jack vaguely remembered something of that being mentioned in the briefing. There was some sciency reason for why this other galaxy jump didn't take an Ancient power device like the last time, and Carter was even more excited about that. But Jack remembered only a handful of the dozens of polysyllabic words she had tossed at him in her flurried, high-pitched-with-delight explanation, and none of them meant anything to him. Jack simply trusted that this was amazing and really, really cool.

But look at the place. Rocks and trees.

Apparently he had voiced his last thought aloud, because suddenly there was Daniel Jackson at his elbow with that trademark reproachful look shining behind his glasses. "You've said that before, Jack, remember? Rocks and trees. And look how that turned out."

Jack grimaced. He didn't need to remember that particular frolic through the Stargate, thank you very much. Scientists. They could never let this stuff go.

Another slurpy noise announced the arrival of Teal'c partway through Daniel's usual reproachful speech. The Jaffa warrior merely nodded solemnly, holding his staff weapon straight at his side. "We would be prudent to remain cautious, no matter how innocuous the situation appears."

Jack nodded impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. There's a reason it says 'Colonel' on my uniform, kids. Everything is under control."

Daniel blinked his big blue eyes in the most innocent and annoying way possible. "But, Jack, it doesn't say . . ."

O'Neill rolled his eyes, effectively shutting the younger man up. "All right, let's take a walk. Any guesses on which direction might bring us closer to signs of civilization?"

Slow head shakes all around. There were no faint paths, manmade thing-a-ma-bobs, chemical traces in the atmosphere, or big flashing signs declaring "This Way to the Emerald City." So the varied skills of Teal'c, Daniel, Carter, and O'Neill were useless. It happened.

Jack tilted his head to the side, then let his arm flop up randomly. "Let's go that way."

There were no objections. The colonel took point, followed by Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c watching their six, as usual. As it ought to be. This was as familiar to them as breathing by now. Another world, another hike. It would either be really boring or incredibly interesting and traumatic, probably—those were the only two options their missions seemed to take.

When they topped the ridge and were able to look beyond the bowl-shaped valley the Stargate rested in, Jack started to get a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him they were probably looking at option number two, here.

"Get down," Jack ordered instantly, already falling to his stomach and pulling out his binoculars. His team obeyed, laying down beside him on the ridge to peer down at the big honkin' sign of civilization below.

"It's not a city," Daniel murmured, gazing at the complex of buildings, black and foreboding in the late afternoon sunlight. His eyes seemed to take in every detail at once, flitting here and there, fascinated and focused. "Too small, and the buildings all have the same kind of architecture, very utilitarian, no sense of aesthetics . . . maybe an institution of some kind."

"A military installation, perhaps," Teal'c said. Of course he had already spotted the patrols walking in pairs around the walls and across the short-cut lawn, uniformed and heavily armed. Jack had seen them too, and the sour feeling in his stomach got a little heavier.

"I keep catching a kind of bluish glimmer in the air around the base," Carter said, sounding as fascinated as Daniel. "Perhaps it's some kind of force-field. That might explain why the MALP didn't pick up any chemicals in the atmosphere, if this complex is self-contained. Or these people might have learned how to eradicate pollution in their world."

"Or their technology could have traces we just don't recognize as such," Daniel pointed out. "This is a completely different galaxy, after all—everything could have evolved in a completely different manner from Earth."

Carter nodded again, her eyes sparkling with scientific curiosity. Great. The Wonder Twins were already way out there. Jack was liking this less and less as time went on.

Daniel made a shift as if to get up, and Jack reached over Carter and grabbed his jacket. "Oh, no you don't. No way you're waltzing up to the front door of that place and starting your 'peaceful explorers' bit until we know more about them and the situation. For all we know, these could be the kind who shoot first and never ask questions at all."

Daniel blinked his baby blues, completely nonplussed. "Actually, I was thinking that you should do it."

"What, waltz up to the front door?"

"Yes, Jack," the younger man said with infinite patience. "They're military. You're military. Solidarity of the species. I'm sure you'll get along."

Jack snorted and went back to watching the patrols he could see. There were five in view, and he was willing to bet that there were a bunch more he couldn't see, lurking in the shadows. This whole deal was starting to look more and more familiar, and not in a good way.

"Will we even be able to communicate?" Carter mused. "I mean, we've hypothesized that something to do with the Gate technology allows us to communicate with other humans as if we spoke the same language, not including terms that can't be translated easily. But it's not the same with the alien species we've encountered. Daniel might have to learn a whole new language before we can talk to these people."

The archaeologist-cum-linguist shrugged, taking this in stride. He was used to picking up new languages the way other people picked up bad habits. The last Jack had heard the count was at twenty-three, but he wasn't sure if that was still accurate.

Teal'c merely inclined his head. "They do appear to be human, at least from this distance. Though that is not conclusive evidence."

"Wait a second . . ." Jack drawled, suddenly suspicious. He zoomed in on something he'd barely noticed while skipping from one patrol to the next, then abruptly cursed. "Bars! There are bars on the windows!"

He lowered the binoculars and took in the whole picture well and truly—the thick-walled buildings, the heavy gate, the shimmer of a force-field, and the many, many armed guards. "This is a _prison."_ He spat the word like poison. The ball of lead in his stomach increased ten-fold.

Jack did not like prisons. Nothing good ever happened to his people there. Chulak, Hadante, Netu, the Cor-Ai . . . Iraq. But then, he'd been alone in Iraq. No Carter or Teal'c or Daniel there to worry about.

Or to come to the rescue, guns a-blazin'.

Nope, Jack was definitely _not_ taking this trip down memory lane. That wasn't going to be an issue here. Not going to happen. Ever.

"I think we should reconsider the whole 'waltz up to the front door and introduce ourselves' plan. If these people are hostile to strangers, we'd be delivering our mutton behinds to the wolves."

His teammates nodded. Jack could see their own memories of prisons filtering behind their closed expressions and shuttered eyes. Sure, prisons were necessary for the containment of criminals. But far too much of the universe seemed more likely to imprison the innocent than the guilty.

"Well . . . there's a paved road leading away from the gate." Daniel offered an alternative, as usual. "We could follow that until we come to a city."

Jack glanced along the road. Dusk was starting to fall, but he didn't see any city-glow along the line the strip of pavement seemed to take. No city-glow anywhere on the horizon, actually. If one was out there, it was good distance away. More than a few hours' hike.

"It's getting dark for that," he decided. "Let's see if we can find a cave or something to set up camp and wait 'til morning. Meanwhile we'll keep a watch on that prison complex, see if we can learn anything."

X

By full dark they had found a decent-sized cave about a half mile away and along down the ridge. They had set up a perimeter there and stowed their supplies, but now all four of them were back here laying on the top of the ridge, watching the only sight there was. A search around the rest of the valley had yielded nothing else of note. They had left the SGC at mid-morning, Colorado time, and arrived a couple hours before sunset here. None of them were tired enough for sleep yet. So they watched the prison.

It wasn't like they'd actually learned anything, yet, except that these people took their security very seriously, and all of the guards appeared to be equally competent and professional. No sign of a leader, no vehicles heading in or out, nothing that could be construed as friendly or the least bit open. Nothing to indicate whether this culture was reasonable or ethical or at all likely to help them.

Jack had been making up conversations between the guards he was watching to keep himself entertained. ("Hey, Bob, catch the game last night?" "Frank, you crazy man, you always say the wildest things." "What? I'm just trying to pass the time here." "Kiss me, you fool!") Carter was still fascinated by the blue shimmer of the force-field, the kind of thing you could only see out of the corner of the eye, elusive and entrancing. Teal'c's face revealed neither boredom nor interest. And Daniel had just yawned for the third time. Not because he was bored, Jack wagered mentally. _Stupid kid has probably been pulling all-nighters doing translation work again,_ he thought with half exasperation, half affection that was nearly hidden from himself.

He was just about to suggest that Daniel go back to the cave and make some coffee—either that or sleep—when a sudden commotion snapped his attention back to the prison complex. Alarms were blaring, lights flashing, guards shouting and running. A pointed finger from Teal'c finally enabled him to find the cause: a slim figure in ragged, light garments running full-tilt across the grass, a half-dozen guards converging on his position.

Jack brought his binoculars to bear even as Carter murmured in surprise at this sudden development. How did one prisoner, alone, obviously limping, manage to escape what was clearly a high-security force? The colonel caught only a glimpse of a pale face, barely more than a blur in the flashing light, before the escapee was engulfed in a tangle of limbs and weapons and dark uniforms as several guards crashed into him at once. But he was pretty sure he'd seen bruises and cuts on that pale face. A bunch of them.

He lowered the binoculars for a moment, staring down at the roiling cluster of uniformed guards just a few yards from the limits of the force-field. It was clearly hopeless. Even if the prisoner hadn't been caught by the guards, the energy wall was impenetrable. Escape from this place must be impossible, barring massive malfunctions or outside help.

Outside help . . . Despite his better judgment, Jack's hand began to stray toward his weapon. He knew that they shouldn't interfere—they didn't know enough about the circumstances or the people involved. Even if the case was clear-cut, their projectile weapons and limited energy firepower would probably make no dent on that force-field. It was a lost cause and he knew it.

But that prisoner down there was fighting desperately, no give, no surrender. Outnumbered, outgunned, outweighed, and probably weakened by days or weeks of maltreatment, he still battled against the odds, throwing off the dark-clad arms that surrounded him, landing punches and kicks wherever he could. O'Neill blinked in astonishment. This desperate little escapee fought with the skill and tenacity of a soldier, a warrior, a martial artist.

This was no ordinary prison, and that was no ordinary prisoner.

And then, impossibly, the ragged stranger managed to break away from his captors. Several of the guards fell back as if they'd been hit by some kind of energy blast, but when the escapee stood alone, his hands were empty. Immediately he turned and sprinted toward the energy wall, only a few paces ahead of more running, yelling guards. He reached the force-field directly opposite their position on the ridge and raised both white, shaking hands as if to push futilely against the wall.

Jack could only watch, sick and helpless, certain that they were about to watch a brave soul be recaptured by those who had obviously brutalized him. And then probably executed for daring to run. But there was an odd flash of blue, sending sparks across the dome, allowing it to be seen in its entirety for the first time.

When Jack's eyes cleared, the man was on this side of the shield, scrambling up the bare slope toward the ridge where they hid. The guards inside pounded against the force-field with the butts of their weapons, yelling for the shield to be lowered, voices loud enough that Jack could hear the words. So, okay, communication wasn't going to be a problem.

But security might be. The escaped prisoner was heading right toward them. Jack waved his team back into the trees with a few gestures, hoping the guards hadn't spotted them. "If he gets this far, this guy could tell us what's going on."

They melted back into the underbrush, hiding themselves at intervals to intercept the stranger. Jack picked a tree between Teal'c and Daniel, listening for pursuit, hoping not to hear it—hoping for just one set of footsteps.

Apparently it took awhile to get that shield down. Jack could still see the blue glimmer above the ridge when he heard soft running footsteps on his nine o'clock, heading toward Teal'c. And then the sounds of another desperate struggle, despite the hushed baritone of Teal'c's voice instructing the escapee to "Be still."

Jack ran for the spot, aware of Daniel and Carter moving behind him. It was a bit hard to tell in the spotty illumination of the alien moons and the flashlight on his jacket, but Teal'c was definitely fighting with a man half his size, and though he was only trying to restrain his opponent, he wasn't having an easy time of it. The blurred figure in tattered off-white garments fought with the strength of terror and the skill of a veteran warrior, all flashing fists and feet and elbows and knees, trying only to get away.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Jack hissed. "We're not gonna hurt you, I swear!"

The shorter fighter startled at the colonel's appearance and jerked sideways. It gave Teal'c the opportunity he needed to wrap both arms about the slim torso and pin him back against his broad chest, grabbing the skinny wrists in his big dark hands and trapping his arms crossed over his abdomen. The prisoner lunged against the tight hold, cracking the top of his head against the bottom of the Jaffa's chin, then fell back, panting, when the strong arms didn't loosen.

Jack gasped at his first clear view of the guy's face. "Jeez! He's just a kid!"

The escaped prisoner's hair might have been reddish once, but it was hard to tell under the grime and tangles. Jack caught a glimpse of a bright iris, maybe blue, but not the clear, uncomplicated brilliance of Carter and Daniel's eyes, maybe greenish or grayish, too. A thin braid hung in front of the youngster's ear, mussed and straggly, tied with colored strings and beads. He couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

Daniel crashed to a stop at Jack's elbow as the kid started to struggle again, kicking backward at Teal'c's legs and twisting to and fro. The archaeologist gaped for a moment, then immediately fell into Diplomatic Daniel mode, trying to make nice with the natives. "Hey, it's okay, we're not from the prison. We're not from around here at all—we're peaceful explorers, came here through the Stargate. We just want to talk to you."

He reached out a hand, soothing, and the kid's eyes flashed wildly between him and Jack, then to Carter, when she also arrived. Damn, so many bruises, and those just where Jack could see them . . .

"You will not be harmed," Teal'c assured the kid, the deep sound rumbling through his chest. Jack recognized that hard glint in the Jaffa's eyes—he didn't like what had been done to this boy, either. Probably thinking about his son, and the slow, painful way he would kill anyone who hurt Ry'ac like this.

Strangely, it was Teal'c who seemed to get through to the boy. He sagged back against his captor's chest, head lolling on the broad, supportive shoulder. "Hurting me now," he rasped.

Teal'c loosened his grip immediately, though he looked ready to tighten it again if the kid tried to run—or keeled over, which seemed ten times more likely. "I apologize."

The boy just concentrated on breathing, eyelids fluttering and legs bending as his adrenalin ran out.

"Ah, my name is Daniel Jackson," Daniel said quickly. "This is Major Samantha Carter, Colonel Jack O'Neill, and, uh, Teal'c."

Jack lifted a hand in greeting. "Call me Jack."

The kid blinked slowly, then drew himself up straighter, formal, polite. "Obi-Wan . . . Kenobi."

"Great. Obi-Wan. Nice to meetcha."

The boy—Obi-Wan—flinched at something they could not see or hear, his wide-eyed stare jerking to the ridge. Jack followed his gaze just in time to see the blue shimmer disappear, and the distant yells became much louder. The boy pushed against Teal'c's arms again, but it seemed like mere reflex, terror alone dictating his actions.

"Time's up, campers. Kill the lights and let's get back to the cave before the cavalry arrives."

"Are you capable of walking, Obi-Wan Kenobi?" came Teal'c's solicitous rumble in the new darkness.

"Yes."

More determination than strength in that answer, but he was a gutsy kid. Jack shouldered his P-90 and slung one slim young arm around his neck to support the boy, Teal'c doing the same on the opposite side. Still, they hadn't made it halfway back to the cave when Obi-Wan collapsed, his legs simply folding beneath him. A flash of moonlight caught his eyes shut, face ghostly beneath the bruises and cuts. Without a word, Teal'c scooped the unconscious youngster into his arms and carried him like a child.

O'Neill fell back on their six, allowing Carter to take point. He obscured their tracks and, once they reached the cave, hid the opening with some artfully arranged tree branches. They would still hold off on a fire until they were sure the pursuit had given up, but this would help.

Inside, he crouched at the entrance, listening to the distant sounds of the search. With his nod, Carter risked a single light so she could examine Obi-Wan, laid carefully on a sleeping bag spread by Daniel. Jack let her poke and prod the kid until he couldn't stand it anymore, then whispered, "How's he doing?"

Carter shook her head, face twisting in the puzzled, displeased expression she got when faced with a problem she wasn't sure how to solve. "He doesn't look good, sir. That's all I can say with any degree of certainty. Three cracked ribs on his left side, one possibly broken. Cuts and bruises everywhere . . . God, so many of them . . . Skin clammy, forehead warm, breathing shallow and irregular. He might have internal injuries." Her fingers pressed gently on the boy's abdomen, and he whimpered even in unconsciousness. Carter winced. ". . . probably has internal injuries," she amended.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that he's been tortured." Daniel's lips were pursed in that familiar hurt/defiant/confused expression he used to greet moral outrages, his forehead deeply creased. One hand rested on Obi-Wan's forearm, bare where the sleeve was ripped, lightly rubbing the chilled flesh. Jack would lay good money that Obi-Wan wasn't even aware of it, but Daniel didn't really care. "Whatever his crimes were, they couldn't have merited this, this _brutality."_

"No crime." The voice was wispy and faint, young, and much, much too weary. All eyes moved to the boy's face just in time to see his eyelids flicker, then slide open. "I committed . . . no . . . crime."

"Hey," Carter said gently, moving a hand up to touch the side of his face. "Hello, Obi-Wan. I'm Sam. How are you feeling?"

The boy's eyes flicked around, catching them all, resting for a moment on the concealed entrance to the cave. He tipped his head back to find Teal'c sitting cross-legged at his head, stoic and impassive. Then he let himself lay flat again with a tiny sigh. "I am . . . afraid. I don't want them to . . . take me again. I cannot . . . answer . . . their questions."

"Cannot or will not?" Jack asked.

A tiny flicker of a smile crossed the pale features. "Will not. I will not betray . . . the Order."

"Well, thank you for your honesty, but I was really asking how you felt physically." Carter offered him a warm smile and ghosted her fingers over his swollen cheek.

"Oh." The boy blinked. "Very bad. I don't suppose you . . . have any bacta?"

SG-1 exchanged confused glances. "Sorry," Daniel answered for them all. "We're from very far away from here. Another galaxy, as a matter of fact. We've never heard of . . . bacta."

Jack could tell that Carter was dying to ask for explanation, but was holding back until the kid felt better. "We have our own medical supplies," she said instead. "I'm going to do my best to patch you up a bit now, all right?"

O'Neill averted his eyes as his 2IC started doing unpleasant medical things to that poor, battered kid, occasionally assisted by Daniel or Teal'c or both. The sounds of footsteps and voices outside were getting more and more faint, so hopefully the search was dying down—perhaps it would be abandoned until morning. The unfortunate side-effect of concentrating so hard on his hearing was that he was able to catch every stifled little gasp and moan that escaped Obi-Wan's lips. He was one tough, stubborn little runt, though.

Eventually Daniel started talking, asking questions, probably as a distraction tactic. "So . . . Obi-Wan, how did you come to be in that prison if you've committed no crimes? Are you at war?"

"No . . . no war. The Republic has no . . . standing armies. The galaxy is at peace, officially. Only . . . local conflicts. Pirates. Lunatics. That sort of thing. The Jedi are all that the Republic needs."

"What are the Jedi? Like a police force?"

"Of a sort. Jedi are . . . guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. Warriors, diplomats. Some are healers, negotiators—" the kid gasped as Carter did something particularly painful— "there are many branches of expertise. Some planets have constabulary forces, but the Jedi belong to the Republic."

It seemed to be a subject on which Obi-Wan could speak eloquently and at length. His voice became dreamy, content, drifting toward sleep. Obviously the thought of Jedi was comforting to him. Maybe these were the good guys, then.

Jack hadn't missed the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't answered the question of how he'd been imprisoned. It might be the effects of a mild concussion, though, the dreaminess and disorientation.

Daniel had been silent, digesting this. Then he asked, "A Jedi, is that what you are? You said you would not betray the Order. The Jedi Order?"

Jack glanced over and saw the boy's face tense, misgiving. Still trying to hold onto his secrets if he could—so far he'd told them nothing that any random citizen of the galaxy wouldn't know. Good for him. _Hold on to that stubbornness, kiddo. Speaking from experience, it can only help you._

"You are a warrior," Teal'c rumbled, calm and certain. "You have skills far beyond your stature and age. Your words, too, are well-chosen. By your own description of the Jedi, you have revealed yourself."

_Nice, Teal'c. Speak to him like one crafty fighter to another. Probably the only way to gain his trust._

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded. "I am a Jedi Padawan."

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it. The unfamiliar term would be explained eventually. They always were.

Daniel was still looking for big-picture stuff, not niggling details. "Then the people who captured you . . . they wanted you because of your status as a Jedi. Are they enemies of the Republic?"

The boy's eyes clouded. "I . . . do not know. Their motivations never became clear. At first I thought I'd been taken for use in bargaining, negotiating. But then there would have been no need for questions. I never fully understood it—those who dealt with me didn't seem to know, either."

"Dealt with," yeah. Nice euphemism for beat, tortured, degraded and imprisoned.

"You should sleep now," Carter said gently, stroking the boy's hair back from his forehead. "I gave you an injection for the pain. It should be helping now. Do you feel sleepy?"

Obi-Wan nodded lethargically, his large bluish eyes fixed on her face.

"Sleep," Daniel said with amazing tenderness, his fingers brushing over the back of Obi-Wan's hand. "We'll talk again when you wake, and I'll tell you about where we came from."

"No one will harm you while you are here," Teal'c said. "I will not allow it."

"Got that right," Jack called across the cave, just to feel included.

A ghost of a smile fluttered across the boy's face, and he slipped easily away into slumber.


	2. The Bird Folding Her Wings

When it had been an hour with no sign of pursuit, Jack built a small fire. By that time Obi-Wan was already lost in fever, delirious, stirring restlessly on the blankets. Sometimes he fought against the hands that tried to soothe him, and sometimes he grabbed them and held on with all his strength, panting through his teeth to keep from screaming. Carter's face gradually became more pale and pinched as the interminable night wore on, and Jack didn't have to ask to know that she thought the kid might be dying.

Daniel finally succumbed to the lateness and lack of coffee, sacking out on the other side of the cave. Jack took his place at Obi-Wan's side, holding the trembling hand in his, wiping away the sweat. Teal'c sat cross-legged in kel'no'reem, holding the kid's head in his lap, bracing the pale face between his rock-steady hands.

"Sir, we have to get Obi-Wan back to the SGC, or he doesn't stand a chance." Carter's voice was low and urgent. "He definitely has internal injuries, and I think he might be bleeding out. Even if we were in the infirmary _now,_ Janet might not be able to save him."

Jack hated having to make these kind of calls, choosing safety and death over danger and life. But there wasn't a choice here. He had to explain it, as much for himself as for her. She already knew what he was going to say—she just wanted to hear it from him. "Carter, it's two miles back to the Stargate. Even if those prison guys have called off the search 'til daylight, you know they've posted guards and search parties all over. They know that Obi-Wan's gone to ground, and they're waiting for the slightest hint of where he is so they can swoop in and grab him. We don't have the manpower or weaponry to fight these guys. Look, I like the kid as much as you do, but I can't risk the team. If he can just hold on 'til morning, we'll be able to scout around and figure out our options."

Carter shook her head grimly. "I'm not sure Obi-Wan has that long, sir."

"Sure he does," Jack said with great confidence. More than he felt. "He's a tough kid. Toughest I've ever met. 'Cept maybe Skaara." And Daniel.

She smiled tightly. "Of course, sir."

Obi-Wan moaned, squeezing Jack's hand painfully. Jack winced at the sensation of bones grinding together, but squeezed back, letting him know he wasn't alone. "Hey, kiddo. Try to relax. You're safe here."

The boy writhed against the hold on him, groaning in agony. "Master . . ." he gasped out. "Master! Where are you?"

Jack felt his forehead crease in outrage. "'Master!' What, are you some kind of slave?" Was that what _Padawan_ meant?

Obi-Wan tried to shake his head, eyes still firmly shut, but couldn't manage it with Teal'c holding his face. "Not a slave. Padawan."

Okay, so there went Jack's first theory.

"What is your master's name?" Carter asked. "Was he with you in that prison?"

Obi-Wan groaned again, his body shaking convulsively in the grip of overwhelming pain. "Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon Jinn. Jedi . . . Jedi Master. My master. Where is he? Master!"

Jack winced at the despairing plea, looking up to meet Carter's eyes. "Can we risk more morphine?"

She shook her head painfully. "It hasn't been long enough since the last dose. He should be sleeping _now."_

"Obviously not."

"Master!" Obi-Wan's eyes popped open and searched frantically about the cave. "Master." It was a sob now, sad and desperate.

Jack's heart twisted in his chest, but he gently laid two fingers of his free hand across the boy's dry, cracked lips. "Obi-Wan. I'm sorry, but I need you to be a little more quiet, okay? Just a little. Bad guys out there."

The boy grunted, a puff of air against the colonel's fingers, but met his gaze with semi-lucidity. "I . . . I understand. Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," Jack said easily. "If I were hurt as bad as you are I'd be yelling my head off."

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut again, then looked back at the man, young eyes pleading, hopeful. "Is my master here? Have you seen him? I need him."

Jack grimaced, heartbroken that he had to crush that hope, so beautiful and fragile. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I don't know where he is."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in resignation, not surprise.

"Perhaps you can tell us what you need from him." Teal'c's voice. His deep brown eyes gazed earnestly down at the boy. "Perhaps we may be able to provide it."

"If we can, we will," Jack promised instantly.

Obi-Wan just blinked hopelessly at Teal'c. "I need him to help me. I am too weak to meditate effectively. I need to enter a deep healing trance, or I will die—I know this. None of you are Jedi. How can you help me?" A shudder passed through his battered frame, and his next statement came in a frail whisper. "Also, I just wish he were here."

Jack glanced wide-eyed between the two faces, one pale and young and twisted in pain, the other dark and sure and calm. "Healing meditation? Hey, Teal'c's all about healing meditation. Aren't you, T?"

The Jaffa nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Will I be able to assist you, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"But . . . you do not . . ." Obi-Wan paused, staring up at the strong face that bent over him. He swallowed dryly. "May I touch your mind?"

Teal'c nodded in grave assent. Obi-Wan gently freed his right hand from Carter's grip, then reached up and laid his trembling fingers against the Jaffa's cheek. The bruised eyelids slid shut, and the labored breathing slowed, steadied. The hairs on the back of Jack's neck stood at attention. There was some seriously weird stuff going on here.

After several long moments, Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, blinking serenely. "It is . . . not the same. Our meditation focuses without, and yours focuses within. But you are strong and controlled, and very skilled in matters of the mind. You cannot connect with me. But perhaps I can . . . follow you? Go with you into deep meditation? My body is very, very weak, but my mind has a little left to give."

"I am willing to do whatever you require, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"It might not work. Our disciplines are . . . very different."

"If you wish to try, I gladly offer my services."

Obi-Wan took several steadying breaths. "Yes. Please."

"What should I do?"

"I will . . . connect my mind to yours. You may feel it, or you may not. When you are ready, begin to descend deeper and deeper into meditation, gradually, so that I can follow. If we are successful, it will appear that I am dead, as my heart and breathing will be very slow. Once the trance is that deep, I will be able to begin healing the wounds inside me."

"I understand. Let us begin now."

X

Well, there were entertaining things to watch. Hockey games. The Simpsons. Carter and Daniel getting each other worked up over something geeky. Teal'c doing his eyebrow dance. General Hammond trying to deal with another wacky day at work. Paint drying.

And then there was Teal'c trying to lead a kid from another galaxy into a deep healing trance.

Carter finally decided to catch a few Zs, letting Jack take "first watch," as they called it, though they both knew that none of them were going to be getting much sleep as long as Obi-Wan was in danger. Though not the least bit entertained or enlightened by the experience, Jack couldn't tear his eyes from where his Jaffa teammate sat, still holding the kid's head in his lap, between his hands, trying to meditate. It didn't seem to be going particularly well.

The eyelids of both participants fluttered now and then, small muscular tics disturbing the deep calm they were trying to achieve. Obi-Wan even gasped a time or two, his fists clenching in the blankets—Jack had released his hand at the boy's request so as not to distract them. O'Neill had seen Teal'c when he was deep in kel'no'reem, and it didn't look like this. It wasn't working, after all.

Obi-Wan was still dying.

How many kids did he have to watch die? Too many teenage soldiers, too many faces still round with childhood, eyes still bright with invincibility, too many. One son, too many. Punishment for his sins. To watch. Damn the universe for choosing this one, too. He'd known the boy for five hours, now. It wasn't enough. It was too much.

A scuff at his side had Jack looking over at Daniel's profile, blue eyes still blurry with sleep, glasses hung askew. "What's going on?"

Jack explained as succinctly as he could, keeping his voice low.

"Master, huh?" Daniel blinked, digesting that bit of information.

"Yep. Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master."

"And Obi-Wan seemed anxious for his presence?"

"He said he wished he was here. And it was him the kid called out for when the pain and fever started getting to him."

Daniel thoughtfully chewed his lip. "Master. Padawan. Master and Padawan. Must be a close relationship, perhaps familial. Or 'Padawan' could mean something like 'apprentice' or 'student.' You know, apprenticeship was common in Western culture up to as recently as a century and a half ago. Even today, some trades still use apprenticeship programs, and in Asia . . ."

"Yes, Daniel. Thanks. I get it. Padawan means 'apprentice,' not 'slave.'"

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open with a sharp inhalation, huge in his pale, sweaty face. Teal'c's opened as well, and Jack could tell by the lines around his mouth that he was unhappy. Damn it.

"Not working," the boy gritted out between panted breaths, his voice raw and aching. His hands twisted in the blanket, white-knuckled. "Can't . . . connect."

"Here, let me give you some water," Daniel offered, leaning forward impulsively, compassionate as always even when he didn't understand what was happening.

Jack and Teal'c raised the kid to a half-sitting position, leaning back against Teal'c's chest, while Daniel fetched a canteen, knocking a few things over in his eagerness to help. Obi-Wan continued to pant, hands now clenching rhythmically in the fabric over Teal'c's knees. The contact seemed to soothe him. By the time Daniel carefully tipped the canteen to his lips, one hand cradling the boy's head, Obi-Wan's breathing was almost under control.

When he was finished drinking, Obi-Wan made no move to draw away from Teal'c, still leaning bonelessly against him. A few of the creases in his forehead had eased away, though his face was still ghostly, covered with sweat. Jack pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it away, figuring he could at least do that much.

"Okay. Okay. We're okay." It was all Jack could think to say. It had to be true, that was all.

Obi-Wan just blinked slowly. "No," he said calmly, gently, explaining a difficult truth to someone who didn't want to hear it. "I am not. I'm bleeding inside—my kidneys, my spleen. I can feel this through the Force. The healing trance failed. I couldn't connect fully with Teal'c. He did all he could. The failure is mine."

Jack looked away, unable to look at that brave, calm young face. So brave and so young. Not fair, damn it. Not fair.

"It was no fault of yours," Teal'c disagreed, his voice tight with might have been anger . . . or pain. "We are, as you say, too different. I felt your mind reaching out to mine, but the connection kept faltering and slipping away. You are strong and skilled, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The fault lies with those who have mistreated you so badly."

"This is not acceptable," Jack growled. "You have to try again. You have to _keep trying._ It'll work. It has to. Try again!"

"We tried, O'Neill," Teal'c said gravely. "We tried many, many times before your voices roused us."

"Is there anything that helps you connect?" Daniel asked suddenly, quickly, searching for solutions, ideas, anything. "When you, when you meditate with your master—or, or, or when you were younger, first learning how, was there something you did differently? Something so basic and elementary that it doesn't, doesn't even occur to you now?"

Obi-Wan shut his eyes, considering. "When I was an Initiate . . ." he began slowly, feeling his way through the memories. "I was very small . . . all the Masters were large in my vision, tall and looming. I was frightened . . . Master Yoda . . . no, not Master Yoda, Master Aishia . . . I sat in her lap, and she folded my hands in hers, so tiny against her palms, hard and callused . . . the hands of a warrior, but she was very gentle with me, as she was with all of the Younglings. She said she wanted to show me something wonderful, but I had to close my eyes. She led me in the First Meditation, her voice vibrating in her chest against my head. About the bird folding her wings to rest, and the calm lake in the middle of the mountains, never disturbed by voice or footstep."

"Okay, okay." Daniel nodded, taking all of this in with his usual wide-eyed fascination for other cultures. "So . . . full body physical contact. Calm, gentleness. Spoken words guiding you to a place of stillness."

Obi-Wan nodded wearily. "It has been many, many years since I needed . . . these things, to meditate."

"But they might help now." Daniel leaned forward, gently laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Jack's right. You have to try again. I know you can do this."

"Teal'c?" Jack asked. _Can you do this?_

Teal'c inclined his head. "I believe I can provide all of these things."

With a gentle respect that was amazing in such a hardened warrior, Teal'c lifted the boy fully into his lap and settled him against his chest, taking the slender hands in his. Obi-Wan's hands disappeared inside the dark fists, much like the images conjured by his rambling little memory. Daniel shook out a blanket and wrapped it around both Jaffa and boy, unwilling to risk Carter's wrath if she woke and found Obi-Wan exposed to the night air.

"We, too, use spoken meditations at times," Teal'c said. "I will modify one to coincide with one of my memories of training on Chulak. I will hold the memory in the forefront of my mind so that you may more easily connect with it, and thus with me."

Obi-Wan nodded. His eyes flicked over to Daniel and Jack. "Thank you for everything you've done, and are trying to do," he whispered. "You gifted me with great kindness, something I did not expect to find in this place. If this fails, do not blame yourselves. And do not grieve over-much. I will be one with the Force."

The two men could only nod. Then Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and Teal'c began to speak.

"I walk through the forest as the sun sets. Around me is only silence. All weapons have been put away for the day, the warriors retired to their tents, the leaders sitting around the fire telling tales like old men with nothing new to say. I do not require their companionship. I seek the solitude of the forest, listening, but desiring to hear nothing. The trees grow strong and tall here. Their roots dig deep, drawing sustenance from the rocks. Their branches spread across the sky, obscuring the late daylight."

It went on for a lot longer than that, but Jack tuned out, interested only in watching Obi-Wan's face. The kid seemed to be relaxing more and more, the wrinkles of pain smoothing away. He even stopped sweating. His eyelids never twitched, after a couple of jerks at the beginning.

Teal'c's voice deepened, softened, slowed . . . and eventually ceased. Jack barely noticed. He'd been watching the folds of the blanket over Obi-Wan's chest rise and fall with his breathing. It was slowing gradually, fading away. He only hoped that this was what they had wanted to happen, that he wasn't watching another kid die before his eyes.

"I think it's working," Daniel whispered, as if afraid that too loud a noise would break the spell.

"Yeah," Jack murmured. "Yeah. I think it is."

X

Jack got maybe three hours of sleep, and they were among the sweetest and most restful he'd had for quite a long time. He woke in the gray pre-dawn to find Carter and Daniel sleeping and Teal'c standing watch, crouched at the entrance of the cave. His gaze instinctively sought Obi-Wan. And then, of course, he had to slink over and check more thoroughly, not believing his eyes.

But his eyes had not deceived him. The boy was sleeping like a baby in his mother's arms, snugly wrapped in thermal blankets, his cheek resting on his hand. A cheek which, incidentally, had some color in it for the first time Jack had seen. Nice. His breath was still way too slow for normal, indicating that the Jedi Padawan was still in the middle of his healing thing, but he looked a lot more comfortable and healthy. And it had only been a few hours.

Teal'c saw his CO's curious glance and took it for the order to report that it was. "Our efforts at cooperative meditation were successful," he said, just loud enough for the colonel to hear, not loud enough to rouse their teammates and guest. "After a sufficient period, I was able to feel Obi-Wan Kenobi's internal injuries healing. When he was deep enough in meditation, though, he released my mind, and I cannot connect to him myself, so I am uncertain of his current condition."

"Kid looks good," Jack murmured. "Well, better. Lots better. We shouldn't bother him, though."

"That would be unwise," the Jaffa agreed.

"And our friends from the prison?"

"I am aware of several search parties in the valley. These warriors are not well-trained in stealth." Teal'c's face, impassive as it was, revealed his disdain for this neglect of necessary skills. "I cannot ascertain their precise positions, however."

"All right. When Carter wakes we'll scout out the area, see what's up. Let them sleep a little longer, though." They seemed to be safe enough for the time being, and it had been a weird, trying night for all of them.

Carter woke on her own as the first fingers of dawn probed into the cave through the branches, clear and cool and sharp as lemons. She always did wake promptly at first light, unless she was wounded or drugged or depressed, and sometimes even then. Good officer, good scientist, good woman. She nodded at Jack's quiet instructions, and he and Teal'c headed out to prove their stealth skills to the unwary natives.

They needed them, too. Teal'c walked soft-pawed as a panther, Jack the wolf fading gray into the shadows beside him, but they couldn't make the Stargate. The valley was lousy with men in dark uniforms, some stomping and cursing and swinging their weapons haphazardly at the undergrowth, some just walking around with dead, incurious eyes. They weren't trying to be stealthy. They were trying to flush out their quarry with terror and taunts.

In ten minutes, Jack learned more specifics about Obi-Wan's experience in that place than he had ever wanted. Nope, this was not a nice, ethical culture where Daniel could make friends and exchange ideas. If these people belonged to the Republic the kid had spoken of with such respect and admiration, Jack wasn't sure he wanted to know what else there was in this galaxy.

At least they had no idea what that round stone thing in the middle of their forest was.

The two travelers made their way up to the ridge and sneaked along until they could view the prison through binoculars, gathering more intel. The dark buildings were decidedly more lively than they had been the day before, bursting with activity, like an anthill stirred by a bully's stick. An anthill full of big, black, mean, rainforest-type ants—the kind that made other ants their slaves. Vehicles were definitely coming in and out of the gate now. Hovering vehicles. Jack did not let the coolness factor of this distract him. Was one young boy this important to these bastards?

Jack's gut clenched as a particularly weird-shaped vehicle pulled up in the courtyard and started spilling its contents. These guys looked different—specialized uniforms, different patches on their shoulders. They weren't carrying weapons. They were holding leashes, and on the other end of each leash . . . Jack would have called it a dog, except that it so obviously wasn't a dog. Each canine snout was almost instantly pressed to the ground, snuffling around. There were four of them.

"Damn it," he muttered. "This galaxy has bloodhounds."

Teal'c inclined his head. Whether or not he was familiar with that word, he knew what this meant. No more words were needed. They took off for the cave.

"They may lose the scent at the point where I began to carry Obi-Wan Kenobi," Teal'c observed. Though no one else would have heard agitation in his voice, Jack knew it was there.

"You be willing to bet on that?" he hissed.

Of course he already knew the answer. Neither of them would ever take that wager.

Back at the ranch, Daniel was sitting up and rubbing his eyes, every line of his body begging for coffee that he wouldn't ask for when he knew they needed to be keeping a low profile. Carter knelt by Obi-Wan, unwrapping many of the bandages she had applied with such care and concern last night. Jack walked over to her and stood looking down at the boy, for the moment containing his urgent need to _leave,_ though not without some difficulty.

"Look at this, sir." Awe in her voice, Carter pulled back blood-soaked gauze from the boy's upper arm, still ugly and dark red with life spilled. The wound underneath looked like a bad abrasion, something a kid would get falling off his bike, not the kind of gaping wound that could release that much blood. "Last night this wound was at least three times as deep and wide. It was still bleeding, sir. And now . . ."

Jack nodded tersely. Yeah, amazing. Even after years of knowing Teal'c, who also had a completely unfair ability to heal, it didn't really get any less cool. But . . . bloodhounds.

"Is he good to go?" That was the only thing that mattered. Behind him, he could hear Teal'c already packing their stuff back into their kits, Daniel helping him, though he didn't understand what was going on.

"Go, sir? I doubt it. The worst wounds seem to be well on the way to healing, but as you can see even from the bruises on his face, most of his injuries haven't changed at all. Apparently he's able to prioritize while doing his healing meditation. But he's nowhere near finished, no. And I don't know what kind of harm it might do to rouse him prematurely. This is completely outside our understanding, sir."

Jack glanced around, saw Daniel and Teal'c standing with their packs on their shoulders, watching. "They have some kind of tracking animals, Carter. Like dogs. We saw them sniffing around, saw them already on the trail."

Two sets of blue eyes widened. "What are our options?" Carter asked.

"Do we have any?" Daniel asked.

The colonel grimaced, ticking off tactical options in his head. Fighting was not a good idea—they were outnumbered and outgunned, and they still wanted to make friends in this galaxy, maybe. Running probably wouldn't work either—if those not-dog things could find them here, they could find them anywhere.

"Jack?"

He raised a hand in the guesture that meant, _Give me five minutes, Daniel, geez._ He didn't have an answer. There weren't any good ones. And he didn't have time to come up with different ones.

Then came the insistent beeping of the portable alarm, that handy little gift from Uncle Sam, crying electronic warning that their perimeter had already been breached. No more time.

They were here.


	3. The Face of Innocence

Jack stood and faced the branches that hid the entrance to the cave, holding himself rock still in the old habit of a seasoned soldier and the instinctive reaction of an animal at bay. Voices, canine sounds, rattling of leashes and the clicks and whines of weapons charging. They were coming.

Fighting—no good. Running—wouldn't work. Surrender—not an option.

And that left . . .

Subterfuge.

"Is there a back exit to this cave?" Daniel asked, his voice high and tight.

Jack shot him a glare. Of course there was a back exit. No member of the United States Armed Forces—any branch—would be stupid enough to get trapped in a dead-end. That was the first thing he and Teal'c had checked before okaying this location for a campsite. You always have several paths of retreat open. Like gophers.

Daniel inclined his head, acknowledging that that had been a stupid question.

Jack wasted no more time. Their course of action was set. "Teal'c, you and Carter take Obi-Wan. If there are more waiting outside the back entrance, hide behind that sweet little curve in the tunnel we found and wait for a clear retreat. Daniel and I will introduce ourselves as the nice friendly inter-galactic tourists who have no clue why everyone is carrying a gun."

Nods from his savvy teammates. They caught on quick, his people. Jack allowed himself a swift, warm burst of pride.

Teal'c crossed the cave in three smooth strides and gathered the kid into his arms, blankets and all. Carter hoisted her pack and led the way deeper into the cave, P-90 cradled, eyes sharp. Daniel moved up to Jack's side, steps firm, expression calm. This was going to be mostly his show, and he knew it, and was ready on a second's notice. That was his archaeologist, and Jack would never trade him.

As half their team disappeared into the cave behind them, Jack stepped forward and carefully removed the branches from the cave entrance, making it appear that they had never been hiding. They were explorers, that was all, newly arrived, curious, excited. They knew nothing about this galaxy. They brought no prejudices and biases with them, only hopes to find friends and allies. Jack slipped easily into this persona he created for himself. He knew that Daniel was doing the same—only Daniel would believe it, making it real, making himself release everything and be open to new people, new experiences. Daniel was like that.

No, more than "like that"—that was who Daniel was. Always open, trusting, wanting to discover, to learn. Believing all good of the universe until it had been proved to him conclusively that the good wasn't there, and then still thinking he could find it somewhere. It was who Daniel was, and who he had made himself be in order to survive all the crap the galaxy flung at him. He had to believe in good, because otherwise the bad would overwhelm him. Jack understood that about Daniel, trusted the abilities it gave him, even admired him for it—but Jack could never be that person.

Because while Jack could wear the face of innocence and openness, always behind it he would be a soldier. He would be the commanding officer of a front-line team, constantly assessing everything and everyone he encountered—for threat, for potential, for risk. He had to see the bad in order to guard against it. He had to think like the bad, adapt himself to it, stay ahead of it, even imitate it—and sometimes he was afraid that he would become it. So far he had managed to stay one step ahead of that final fall, but he could always feel it stalking him, waiting for him to make the fatal little slip that would plunge him forever into darkness.

So, yeah, Jack understood Daniel, trusted him, admired him. And sometimes he ignored him, subverted him, insulted him and shoved him away. But he always needed him, and knew he always would.

Jack slung his weapon over his back and stepped out of the cave, a half-step in front of Daniel. They stood there shoulder to shoulder as the perimeter alarm continued to wail and people holding weapons began to circle them. The colonel raised his eyebrows, glancing around at the hardened expressions, the confused eyes. "Something we can do for you boys?"

An officer stepped out from behind the others and started barking something difficult to hear over the alarm. Jack winced and cupped his ear. "Sorry, can't understand you—hold on a second, will ya? Let me shut off the alarm."

He shouldered his way through the surrounding guards, showing no respect for their weapons and attitudes, and they let him reach the tree and reach up to silence the alarm. As soon as it was quiet Daniel was talking, introducing them, revealing their mission of peaceful exploration to all and sundry.

"You see, back in our own galaxy we're at war with a race called the Goa'uld, a parasitical species who take the bodies and minds of their captives and use them for their own ends. They're especially fond of using humans, though other races are not immune. Our planet faces annihilation unless we can find a means to defend ourselves, and we . . ."

The grumpy officer gestured sharply, cutting Daniel off. "We're not interested in you," he said. "We're searching for an escaped prisoner. An exceedingly dangerous escaped prisoner. It's imperative that we find and retrieve him as soon as possible. Have you two encountered anyone else in these woods?"

Daniel and Jack exchanged glances. "No, no one," Daniel said, his eyes wide and guileless. "I mean, we're looking for someone to talk to, but we hadn't found anyone. Until you showed up here, of course. We did watch a complex of buildings for a while, hoping for someone to come out." He gestured vaguely back where they came from. "But it was locked up pretty tight. Is that where you're from? It's a prison?"

The officer nodded impatiently, dark eyes glittering with suspicion. "You're sure you saw no one? His trail leads directly to this spot."

Jack blinked at him. "Really? That's odd." He cast a disbelieving look on the two canine creatures being restrained in the circle of men surrounding them. Two. That meant the others were probably already circling back around the hill, finding the other cave entrance. "Are you sure your dogs followed the right scent? Your prisoner's trail probably crossed ours back at the ridge there, and I'm sure we're more interesting to your animals. Being from another galaxy and all."

The officer wrinkled his nose. "These are highly trained Special Forces attack canoids. They do not get fooled by cross-trails. Especially not four of them at the same time."

"Well, maybe your escapee passed by us in the night. We had to sleep sometime."

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. "Perhaps we can help you look for him, as a token of our good will to your people. Can you describe him?"

The officer scowled fiercely at him, then seemed to relent. "He's a Jedi—a member of the most dangerous military force in this galaxy, brainwashed from infancy in a religious cult and capable of things you probably believe to be impossible. Telekinesis, mind control, extraordinary feats of physical prowess. In another age his kind would be hunted down and executed for the extreme risk they pose to society, but our government, _the_ _Republic,_ allows them free reign—gives them special status, the creatures of the Senate!"

Okay, well, that had gotten a bit off track. Jack let the man rant. It was giving them a lot more information about these guys and about the galactic politics than they would get by simply asking. Daniel's eyes were wide, taking it all in—and he also was smart enough not to interrupt.

But the man from the prison seemed shake himself, then, and glared at Daniel as if it was his fault he'd gotten distracted. "This prisoner . . . do not let his mask of innocence fool you. He appears to be a mere boy, approximately fifteen standard years old. He is not tall or large or extraordinary in any way. Some may even call him charming. But he is a Jedi."

Daniel gave him a slow, serious nod. "I understand. We haven't seen anyone, certainly not a boy like that."

Grumpy Officer's eyes were sharp and narrow. "Then you won't mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here."

"No, of course not."

Jack stepped aside as the two Special Forces moved in. His jaw clenched, but he was careful not let the muscles on his jaw bunch, revealing his agitation. There was no way to know if Carter and Teal'c had gotten out in time.

That is, there was no way for him to know right now. If those dog-things started barking in a moment here, they would all know.

X

Sam pressed her back against the rough cave wall, resting in Teal'c's large, reassuring shadow. To the left, she could just see a corner of light gleaming beyond the curve of the tunnel, bright and morning-warm. There were voices out there, soft and sparse, and sniffing, jingling noises that sounded an awful lot like tracking dogs. To the right was the dimness of the main chamber emptied of SG-1's presence, and the safe, familiar voices of Daniel and the colonel snowing the natives.

She glanced up at Teal'c, saw his broad dark head tilted in listening. Obi-Wan's head was sheltered in the gentle dip between the Jaffa's chest and shoulder, limp and heavy still in unconsciousness, his long legs draped over Teal'c's arm and touching hers. As time passed and the man talking to her teammates became more and more vociferous in his hatred of the Jedi, Sam found herself staring at the boy harder and harder. Was that a flicker of movement, his eyelash twitching? Was his breath quickening?

It was too soon for the boy to wake. All of the half-healed wounds she'd just inspected flashed before her mind's eye, and she knew beyond a doubt that it was too soon. It was bad for Teal'c to be interrupted in the middle of kel'no'reem—he was always unsettled and unbalanced when that happened, often for days, until he managed to regain equilibrium. He would have more trouble healing from incidental injuries like bruises and cuts, and sometimes he was even almost . . . cranky, if such a word could be applied to a man who kept his emotions under incredibly tight mental control.

This healing meditation Obi-Wan used . . . it was not the same as kel'no'reem. This was something deeper, harder, much more mysterious and much, much more powerful. Teal'c relied on the genetic healing factor of a parasite that lived in his belly. Obi-Wan relied on a power he called the Force, something outside himself—and capable of giving him astonishing abilities, if what that man outside said was true. It was akin to the difference between using the power of a campfire to cook a meal and harnessing the power of a star to move a solar system—or create a black hole. Sam was intimately familiar with this kind of difference. It was nothing to be trifled with.

If interrupting Teal'c's meditation had a bad effect on him, it was a safe bet that interrupting Obi-Wan would do something a lot a worse. Sam wasn't quite sure how bad it would be, but she was thinking in exponents.

Even as she watched, hoping it wouldn't happen, Obi-Wan's eyes slowly slid open, instantly bright and alert in the dimness of the cave. He didn't move so much as a hair's-breadth, but Teal'c instantly felt the change and looked down at the young face nestled against him. The boy simply lifted his chin by the barest increment, his expression calm and controlled, telling them without words that they needn't worry about him.

Sam couldn't help it, though.

Obi-Wan seemed to know it—he gave her the slightest of smiles, meant to be reassuring and encouraging, then tilted his head slightly as he listened to the muffled conversation taking place outside the cave. She felt Teal'c's eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze. No doubt about it—they were both completely out of their depth here.

"Then you won't mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here."

Sam stiffened as the sneering words filtered back to them. These canoids obviously had a highly developed sense of smell, considering that they'd been able to track Obi-Wan's scent even after Teal'c had begun to carry him. Earth bloodhounds would have lost the trail there. Even if the three of them were able to flee the cave now—which they weren't—these creatures would continue to hunt them down. No escape.

Slowly, Sam felt her finger slip into the trigger guard of her P-90, still cradled in her arm and pointing down. She had not made the decision to move—her body simply reacted to the threat coming toward them. Fighting was impossible, she knew that. It wouldn't work. But she couldn't let these monsters recapture Obi-Wan. He had already suffered far too much at their hands, far too much for a young boy, Jedi or not.

And, yeah, SG-1 didn't know the entire truth of the situation. For all they knew, this angry man's description of the Jedi could be more accurate than Obi-Wan's reverent little speech last night. It was always, _always,_ bad, bad trouble for them to get involved with internal politics on another world. Daniel would be the first one to say this, but Sam wouldn't be far behind him—not anymore, anyway. They'd been burned enough.

But actions spoke louder than words. And these people had been holding Obi-Wan captive, had been torturing and interrogating him, simply because he was a Jedi. The right in this situation was clear to Sam.

She wouldn't let them take him again.

Without meaning to, though, she let her finger slip out of the trigger guard again. A strange calm settled over her, gentle and easy, not controlling, but smoothing over her agitation like balm over a wound . . . Startled, Sam jerked her head up, staring at Obi-Wan. He gazed back at her serenely, and tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement.

It was him, his calm transferring to her. She'd never felt anything like it. Maybe that man out there had a point. The Jedi were incredibly powerful, and power could be misused.

But Obi-Wan wasn't forcing her to do anything. He was just . . . reassuring her.

The canoids were snuffling around in the main chamber now; Sam could hear them clearly. She peeked cautiously around the edge of the tunnel, then ducked back, only then processing what she had seen in that guarded flash of vision. The two men had something like flashlights, beams swinging around the cave in an orderly search pattern. One of the canoids was still sniffing the spot where Obi-Wan had lain last night, and the other one was heading straight for them.

Despite Obi-Wan's calm on her, Sam felt her breath and heart rate quicken. The boy seemed so completely passive—would he let himself be recaptured, merely to spare his new friends? She couldn't allow it!

A gentle tug on the sleeve of her shoulder arrested her cascading thoughts, and she glanced back to find a slim, pale hand clenched in the fabric there. She followed the arm back to Obi-Wan's face, and saw the firm, almost stern set of his mouth. No, surrender was not his plan. He would not so quickly discard the gift of their protection.

He released her shoulder, his hand still resting outside the shelter of the blankets wrapped around him, firmly held by Teal'c. His gaze slid past her, to the coming enemy. Sam pressed herself against the wall again as she heard them coming—both of them now, metal jangling, the two handlers' boots treading loud on the rock.

The Special Forces men came around the bend in the tunnel. Sam waited for the shouts, the howls. She watched the canine noses, waiting for them to snap up, on point. She squinted her eyes half-shut in preparation for the light beams hitting them, zeroing in on their faces.

Nothing happened. The two men and two animals came toward them, searching everywhere. The beams of light swept back and forth. The canoids kept their noses to the ground, moving directly to them. One of them sniffed Teal'c's boot. Sam's fists clenched around her gun, but she didn't move, didn't breathe.

Then the searchers continued moving down the tunnel. They didn't even twitch toward them—didn't register their presence at all. Sam didn't believe it.

She raised her head to stare at Obi-Wan again, her eyes so wide that they hurt. His hand was stretched out toward the men and canoids, following them, as if connected by an invisible line. His face was set, his concentration intense. Sweat shone on his pale skin, which was rapidly draining of the little color he'd managed to gain in his healing meditation.

Then the searchers passed out of the tunnel into the air outside, met by those already there, and continued moving on. Gradually the sounds of the search moved off, faded. It made no sense.

Obi-Wan slowly lowered his hand, then suddenly gasped as the tension fled from his frame and he fell helplessly back against Teal'c's chest. "Gone," he choked out between pants for breath. "They're . . . gone. They'll keep going. They believe we are not here."

"How . . ." Sam stared down the tunnel, then back to the exhausted boy. "What did you do?"

"The weak mind can be influenced," he said softly. "I have a bit of talent with that particular skill."

No duh, shnikey. Sam gazed blankly down the cave again. Holy Hannah. Mind control. It was mind control.

"Please don't be afraid," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice suddenly pleading and very, very young. "Please don't fear me. We only use this skill when the need is very great, I swear to you. It was how I escaped from my cell back in the prison—otherwise I would still be there, would still . . . Please. Don't fear me."

Sam made herself look back at his face. She saw how miserable he was, how drained and empty, how sorrowful that who he was should be a fearful thing to her. Teal'c's hand rose from where it held the boy's shoulder and gently cupped his pale, sweaty face, offering his understanding.

She could only offer him a smile, weak and shaky as it was. "You—you saved us," she stuttered. "You did what you had to do."

He gave a slow, uncertain nod, and smiled hopefully back at her. "We should wait a bit, but soon it will be safe for us to leave."

Sam nodded.

Yes. Leaving sounded good.

X

Jack waited with Daniel, listening to the sounds of the search inside. For the sake of the guards surrounding them he affected indifference, slouching against the rocky hillside, hands tucked into his pockets. Daniel kept trying to engage Grumpy Officer in a cultural dialogue, still being his apparently clueless, one-track-mind self. It was a great act—a couple of times it even fooled Jack.

But then he would notice the tension across Daniel's shoulders, the sharpness of his movements even more pronounced than usual, and would know that he was afraid.

The officer slashed his hand in front of Daniel's face, cutting off his latest monologue, when the device in his hand buzzed to life. He lifted it to his face and messed with a couple of dials. "Report."

The voice over the communicator was clear and crisp, and Jack could hear the canoids in the background. "Sir, the cave was empty. The main chamber did have some signs of recent habitation, but everything else looked untouched. However, the canoids are still on the trail. We're in the woods again, on the opposite side of the ridge."

"Understood." The officer looked up at the guards standing around, and made a few short, military gestures with his hand. Three-fourths of them took off, heading over the ridge in loping strides. "Sending Squads 4, 5 and 6 to join you. I have some unfinished business here. Do not break off the search until the prisoner has been found. Regular reports."

"Command received. Hunt 1 out."

Grumpy Officer lowered the communicator and stared at Jack and Daniel with narrowed eyes. The squad still here stood with weapons ready, attentive to his every word. "Well, it appears that the prisoner did pass through here in the night. I find it hard to believe that he managed this without waking you, though."

Jack shrugged. "Hey, you don't know us very well. We both sleep like the dead."

He immediately regretted his choice of analogy, though, when the officer's lip curled in disbelief. "You are a military man, O'Neill, it is quite plain. Military men sleep lightly, especially ones who frequently travel to unknown territories, as you claim you do. And you did not set a watch, in this unknown and possibly hostile territory? Preposterous."

"We'd already scouted the place out. We knew there was no danger."

The officer continued to study them. The suspicion in his face did not lighten. Jack's gut continued to tighten, and it still hadn't even let up from yesterday.

"You claim to be peaceful explorers, here to meet us, in search of allies and trade. Yes?"

"Yes," Daniel said eagerly, one foot lifted as if to step forward.

"Well, you've found us. I'll take you to our leaders to begin discussing what you can offer in return for our support."

A contemptuous smile curled his mouth, and he swept his hand expansively toward the prison in a mockery of invitation. "Please, follow me."

And they did. They had to.


	4. The High Ground

Jack and Daniel sat side by side at a metal table in an empty room. It was not altogether an unfamiliar situation for the two.

Here they were in a prison, yet again. Yeah, they weren't prisoners this time. Yet. Jack wasn't all that sanguine about keeping this status quo. He really, really hoped that they hadn't traded Obi-Wan's freedom for their own, but if they had . . .

If they had, so what? These guys had no reason to hate visitors from another galaxy, besides the fact that it was becoming increasingly obvious that they had lied about seeing a kid last night. Whatever they had wanted the young Jedi for, Jack and Daniel couldn't possible serve the same purpose. And at least so far Officer Grumpy (he had finally introduced himself as Commander Beller, but Jack felt no need to be polite inside his head) was pretending that they were only here for a friendly visit. Jack just had to keep him from having any reason to interrogate them, that was all.

Daniel's leg was bouncing relentlessly up and down. Jack looked at him, drawn out of his thoughts. Above the table the younger man's body was completely still, but a fine sheen of sweat was starting to coat his forehead. Not so very long ago, they'd been held captive by another military leader with similar patriotic passion and autonomous authority. That little trip hadn't gone well for Daniel at all. Jack still remembered the grim look on Janet Frasier's face when she had helped Daniel out of his shirt and started treating the electric burns scattered across his shoulders, chest, and upper back.

No matter what else happened today, Jack would make sure that Daniel didn't suffer for their defiance. This was not optional—it was carved in polished granite, immutable.

He laid his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. Daniel looked back at him, and slowly the tension around his mouth and eyes began to ease. Gradually, his leg stopped moving, and his knee rested against Jack's for a moment, the confiding lean of someone young and trusting and utterly unafraid, someone who knew with utter faith that the one he leaned on could make everything right. Jack was pathetically grateful that Daniel still felt like that, despite everything he'd been through, despite how desperately untrue it was.

_Don't worry, big guy. I've got your six._

_I know. Wouldn't be here if I didn't._

As it had been with them from the beginning, they didn't need words to say the important stuff.

The door made a ridiculously loud noise as it crashed open, allowing the entrance of Grumpy Officer Commander Beller. Jack was proud of Daniel for not startling, and gave his shoulder a last, casual squeeze before letting his hand drop and turning to face their visitor, letting one eyebrow arch upward. It was time for a new plan, time to retake the high ground, and he knew just how to do it.

"Hey, I've been thinking," he said before the other man did more than open his mouth. "And y'know, it occurs to me that perhaps I haven't been entirely truthful with you."

Daniel's head snapped around so he could stare at him, expressive eyebrows reaching for the sky, and Jack gave him a little half-nod, half-shrug. They hadn't had a chance to discuss this, as Jack was absolutely certain that the room was bugged, but he hoped that Daniel would understand that he wasn't supposed to fall out of character. This was Jack's show, now.

Jack looked to Grumpy Beller and spread his hands open on the table, displaying his truthfulness. "To be honest, I didn't even think about it until the trip over here. It happened pretty fast."

Daniel's eyebrows, still arched, clearly said, _Yeah, right,_ and Beller said something very like it aloud.

Jack shrugged. "You figured it out, Commander. I'm a military man. We sleep lightly, and we keep watch in unknown territory. The kid came through the cave during my watch."

Daniel blinked. Jack gave him an apologetic wince. "Sorry I didn't tell you."

_Didja catch that, Officer Grumpy? Daniel's innocent, always has been. Leave him out of this._

Beller stood back at military rest, hands clasped behind his back, mouth closed, forehead wrinkled. He got it.

"Kid came into the cave, ragged, breathing hard. He saw me looking at him, and looked back, begging with his eyes, y'know? I didn't say a word, just let him see me lower my gun, and he took off. He didn't look like a dangerous escaped felon—he looked like a scared kid."

"Jack, you made contact with a native while I was sleeping?" Daniel sounded just as upset as he really would if this happened on some other world and Jack committed the terrible crime of not waking him.

"Daniel, we didn't even talk—we just looked at each other."

"An escaped prisoner?"

"He didn't look like a murderer or anything. He looked like a refugee!"

"Well, we've met murderers who don't look like it before, need I remind you?"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

Daniel glowered. It looked very real. Jack suddenly wondered if he had gone too far.

"Still, Jack, you should have consulted me before making any sort of decision."

Nah, that wasn't hurt in Daniel's eyes. It was excitement, as they improvised this little drama for their interrogator. Officer Grumpy Beller just continued to stare at them, letting them rant, gathering intel just the way they would have.

"Hey, I'm the colonel here. I'm still the commanding officer."

"Yes, but I'm the cultural expert, and you're supposed to defer to me in matters relating to my field. And contact with the first person we've seen in another _galaxy_ certainly falls under that distinction!"

"Oh, you think you would have been able to tell that he was a dangerous convict on the lam?"

"I don't know! I might have! You didn't give me a chance!"

"There wasn't time! I made the best decision I could based on the information I had!"

"What information? You saw a kid in a dark cave. What, did you think he was just out a little past curfew or something?"

"Or something! Daniel, the kid was covered with cuts and bruises! He looked like he was having trouble breathing, he was _limping,_ and he was terrified! What was I supposed to do, yell 'Freeze! Police!' and knock him to the ground?"

"He was . . . Oh." Daniel sat back, looking very much like a boat that had been sailing along beautifully until the wind suddenly died and it ran into a rock. "He . . . Oh. He was covered with cuts and bruises?" The archaeologist leaned toward Jack again, his hand out, a new kind of accusation sharpening his voice. The wind had come back very nicely. "The native, a kid by your description, a _child,_ was having trouble _breathing?_ Jack, he was obviously in distress! You should have stopped him and offered some help!"

Jack threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "I just can't win with you, can I?"

"You should have woken me!"

"Daniel." _For cryin' out loud, you really need to calm down._

"Jack." _Calm? Calm? I'll show you calm._

"Daniel!" _I'm not going to win this one, am I?_

"Jack!" _You bet your sweet cornbread you're not going to win this one, you sorry, sorry military idiot._

Daniel could be really vicious in these body language and voice tone wars.

Grumpy Officer Beller cleared his throat, and Daniel whirled on him, one long, elegant finger pointing at him, promising retribution, hard eyes and set mouth promising that it would be fiery.

Just as quickly Daniel turned back to Jack, his voice hard and quiet. "These cuts and bruises . . . did they look like the kind you get escaping and running and maybe falling down in some rocks, or the kind you get from bunches of fists and maybe a few implements?"

"The second kind." Jack gave him a tense little nod. _I get where you're going, Danny boy._ Retaking the high ground, indeed.

They both whirled to Commander Grumpy, faces hard set in moral outrage.

"You," Jack growled. "If he escaped from here, it was you. A _kid,_ Commander? A kid? Is that how desperate you are?"

"We're not talking to you anymore," Daniel said, snub nose raised in just the same snooty tilt that would be used by an elementary-age schoolgirl saying the exact same words to someone she didn't like. "We refuse to negotiate with someone who tortures children, and we demand to speak with a _real_ leader."

_Okay, that might be laying it on a little thick, Danny. Just a little._

But Grumpy Beller just gave them a tight nod, turned on his heel, and marched out.

Well, that might have worked. Or it might have signed them up for a lot more trouble.

X

Obi-Wan had insisted that he could walk, and Sam hadn't felt much like arguing after the whole mind control thing, so she had let him. (Teal'c had probably let him do it for an entirely different reason, like warrior-brotherly-respect or something, but she wasn't asking.) But after several hours of wandering purposefully through the woods, doubling back and leaving false trails for the canoids to follow once they figured out that they needed to go back to the cave, the boy wasn't looking so good.

Strike that—he hadn't looked that great from the time they started walking. But as time had passed he had gradually lost all of the healthy color he'd managed to win back. His breathing came more and more hard, sweat began to reappear on his face, and he started to hunch a little as he walked. And then he started trembling, just very lightly, and Sam had had enough.

"Let's take five," she said, pointing to a defensible position on a slight rise immediately to their right, covered with dense vegetation.

Teal'c merely nodded assent, but Sam didn't miss his hand coming under Obi-Wan's arm to support him as they climbed the incline. Once they were behind the screen of underbrush, Obi-Wan sank gratefully down against a tree, still fighting for breath. Teal'c pulled a canteen off his pack, opened it, and placed it in the boy's hand. Sam knelt beside them, keeping an eye on the countryside.

Obi-Wan stared at the canteen in incomprehension until Sam gently nudged his arm. "Drink." He glanced at her, large bluish-green eyes blank and glazed, then back at the large, heavy object in his hand. He lifted it to his lips and took a slow, cautious sip, then another, working hard at not drawing it into his lungs along with gasps of air. His hands trembled, and he struggled to hold them steady.

Sam settled down beside him, one hand lightly stroking his tense shoulder. No, she would _not_ reach over and help him hold the canteen. She would let him keep his dignity. After a lifetime of living with military boys—particularly the last few years spent with her own peculiar set of male siblings—Sam knew she shouldn't try to help.

"We need a plan," she said instead, desperate for distraction. "We can't just keep eluding these guys forever. We need a goal and a course of action to reach it."

Obi-Wan lowered the canteen and let it rest in his lap. "I need to contact my Master. We were . . . we were in the city, Tholia. It is too far to reach on foot . . . especially with canoids on our trail." He let his head fall back against the trunk with a weary sigh. "I wish I had my com-link. And my lightsaber." He smiled gloomily. "Or my Master. That would be nice."

Sam managed a small, tight smile, but she couldn't make it stay on her face for very long. "We'll get you to him," she said softly. She considered for a moment, then unclipped her radio. "What about this? We use these to communicate, but they're relatively short range. I might be able to boost it, though, with a little fiddling. Do you have any idea if the technology might be at all compatible?"

Obi-Wan accepted the radio and turned it over in both hands. His fingers still shook, very slightly, but they were nimble and skilled. It didn't take him long to find all the buttons and figure out what they did.

He looked up at her, eyes bright and curious, no longer dull with fatigue and helplessness. "Can you show me how to open it so I can look at the components inside?"

This time Sam was able to make her smile stick around for a little while longer. "Allow me."

X

They were making them wait for it again. Jack looked at his watch for the third time in ten minutes, drumming his fingers on the table. It was times like this that he really hated, when they'd done everything they could, made all their arguments (literally, in this case), and it was up to some alien to make a decision before he knew what to do next. He was good at acting and reacting, but this was something else.

Even Daniel seemed restless, He of the Perpetual Curiosity, able to study a shard of a broken alien toilet for _hours_ and be really excited about it. This room was bare and empty, no squiggles or rocks or . . . anything. Jack felt a little sorry for his bored archaeologist, but not as much as he felt for himself.

"Doing all right, Daniel?"

"Yeah. Just wondering about . . ." Daniel made a vague motion with his head.

"Ah."

Jack hadn't really let himself think about Sam or Teal'c very much. They'd gotten out of the cave before the dog-things came through, that much was obvious. After that . . . well, they hadn't been caught yet. They'd have heard some sort of commotion, even if Beller didn't come in to gloat.

Jack couldn't do anything for them, so he tried not to waste his effort thinking about it. There were no two people he trusted more to carry out a military operation, whether it was as complex as a battle or as simple as a strategic retreat like this one. Teal'c had the experience of ten human generals, and Carter would see the ins and outs of any situation and be able to make decisions.

The only real complication, of course, was that they were currently just a tiny bit hampered by the weight of an unconscious adolescent boy.

But Jack wasn't going to worry about it.

"I'm sure it's fine," he said.

Daniel nodded, and stared at the door for awhile.

"What about that kid you saw last night?" he asked eventually. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Yeah." Jack drummed his fingers a little harder. "He made it that far. I'm sure he made it wherever he was going."

"Yeah. I'm sure you're right."

Jack went back to refining escape plans in his head—just figuring stuff out in case this whole thing went south. He had a couple dozen, depending on how many tried to guard them, how alert they were, and what kind of weapons they were carrying. It wasn't an unusual exercise for him. He did it all the time, in restaurants, stores, boring meetings, Daniel's ruins, that kind of thing.

He was going over the layout of the building he'd seen on the way to this room from the outside for the fifth time when Beller finally returned. Jack flicked him an incurious glance, head resting on his hand. "Hey, Commander," he said with deliberate insolence.

"O'Neill. Jackson."

Daniel Jackson tilted his nose upward again, mouth primly shut. Jack looked at his fingernails. _"Dr._ Jackson," he informed his counterpart. "Three times over, if you were wondering."

And Daniel had to break his silence at that. Jack had known he wouldn't be able to keep it up very long. "Jack is a colonel," he said frostily. "Short memory?"

Yeah, they could insult each other all they wanted, but let some outsider show the slightest hint of less than perfect respect . . .

The corners of Beller's mouth turned down a tiny bit farther than they had been already. "I have relayed your request to my superiors, and they have agreed. I will now escort you to the city, Tholia, to meet with the governor. I will be sure to inform him of your proper titles. You have been recognized as ambassadors from your planet."

"Earth," Jack said helpfully. "It's called Earth. You can call us the Tau'ri, or Earthlings. Either works."

The commander nodded, but Jack continued to savor the way his lips twisted, as if he was being force-fed something sour, or maybe spoiled.

X

After a long discussion about frequencies, power, and atmospheric differentials, frequently interrupted for tangential conversations to define terms in words they both understood, Sam and Obi-Wan decided that it might— _might—_ be possible for them to interface the technologies of their completely disparate worlds. Obi-Wan adapted quickly to her tools, strange as they were to his hands. Then he set to work on Sam's radio and other assorted scientific paraphernalia, trying to MacGyver something that could reach his Master's communicator.

Sam was pleased. Several of her goals were being met. They were working on a way out of this, but more importantly, Obi-Wan was distracted, busy, hopeful, and resting—without protest—while they took care of him. He'd already absently eaten two power bars Sam had casually placed in his hand while they were talking, taking only a moment to remark that the Earthlings' rations tasted a bit better than similar fare in the Republic. Teal'c had slipped away a couple of times to keep an eye on their enemies, and though Sam knew Obi-Wan was aware of this, he hadn't commented on it. Everything was going as well as could be expected, under the circumstances.

Not to mention that it was just plain fun for Sam to be able to talk electronics with someone from another galaxy. Though Obi-Wan insisted that he was by no means an expert, it was plain that he had an interest in technology, and a fair bit of talent with it. It was also refreshing to discover an alien world where technology was in more-or-less familiar circuits and wire, rather than the crystal technology so ubiquitous in the Milky Way.

Everything was strange, but somehow familiar, as Obi-Wan had been from the beginning. They had all recognized him, it seemed, even though they'd never seen him before. And he had recognized them. No wonder, then, that they had so quickly and easily come to trust and rely on each other. They were all familiar strangers.

She was already looking forward to meeting this Qui-Gon Jinn. He must be a remarkable man, to have earned the utter confidence of this remarkable boy. Obi-Wan was certain that if they could only contact him, he would make everything right. In another person it might have seemed like naiveté. But in Obi-Wan, faith was strength.

A lot like Daniel, actually.

After a while, though, Sam started to wonder if Obi-Wan's eyes were a bit too bright, his movements too energetic. She had been watching him pull out and reconnect components and wire in what would have looked like an incomprehensible mish-mash if she hadn't had a vague idea of what he was doing. Though she was unable to help for the most part, beyond holding the odd wire for him, she was fascinated by the process. But now she leaned forward and touched the boy's knee.

She smiled when he looked up, face open and generous, ready to answer her questions. "I was just wondering how you were feeling. Are you all right? I worried, when you came out of your trance too early. I was afraid that might be harmful."

He smiled back, warm and bright, pleased that she had thought of him. "Thank you for your concern, but early waking is not harmful. The Force warned me of danger—I knew that I needed to be conscious, or we would all be captured. It's true that I wasn't able to finish healing, though. I have difficulty with self-healing at the best of times."

"Not one of your many talents, huh?"

He seemed to take this as a joke, chuckling quietly, as if the idea of himself as a talented person was completely nonsensical. "No, no. Just one of my many faults and weaknesses."

Sam felt her forehead wrinkle, but refused to allow herself to be distracted. "But how are you, then? You didn't have time to finish healing—are the internal injuries still troubling you? Do you feel hot, chilled, dizzy, or nauseated? I know you're exhausted, but how bad is it, exactly? Maybe you should take a break, give yourself some time."

The smile faded and he shook his head, looking down at the mess of electronics in his lap. "I'm well enough. The internal injuries were almost completely healed, as well as some of the larger wounds on my body. I am tired, yes, but I don't need to stop. We have to get out of these woods before they find us."

"Yes, of course."

But Sam heaved a small, silent sigh. Another similarity between this determined boy and her passionate friend—a marked tendency to hide their pain, to push themselves beyond exhaustion, and to take all burdens on their own shoulders. "Well enough" sounded like "I'm fine"—all-purpose and completely unreliable.

Then she and Teal'c would just have to treat this young man with same care as they did their friend. At least they had practice.

Sam continued to watch her new friend work. But after their brief exchange, it seemed to go downhill. Obi-Wan's movements became shorter and sharper, his face bent over the electronic hash, shoulders hunching and forehead wrinkling. He kept rechecking certain circuits with her voltage gauge, shaking his head, reconfiguring something else, then trying again. Steadily his fingers grew more and more shaky, and he wiped the sweat from his face with an already-filthy sleeve, all but panting in frustration and weariness.

And Sam felt utterly helpless. Everyone at the SGC seemed to think that she could do anything with technology, that she only needed a quick glance and a moment of fiddling to work a miracle. But she only barely understood what Obi-Wan was trying to do here, and she could offer nothing. Obviously the power requirements were not being met, but they had already looped in everything she had. Once again the Tau'ri were "too young," too inexperienced, too far behind.

At last he looked up at her, and then to Teal'c, his expression stiff, trying desperately to hold despair at arm's length. "I can't do it," he murmured. "I need one of our own power sources, smaller and more efficient. This is just . . . it isn't enough. I . . . not enough."

Sam wondered if it was truly possibly for a human heart to be broken by two whispered words. "Not enough." No one should feel that what they had to offer was not enough, especially not someone this young, this bright and brave and talented. "Not enough." It was the most damning of self-accusations.

And she hoped, she prayed, that in this one way, Obi-Wan and Daniel were not alike. She never wanted to see that look on her brother's face.

Teal'c turned his head to look down the hill, and Sam followed his gaze.

"A patrol is approaching," the Jaffa informed them, his voice completely calm. "They will reach this position within half an hour."

"Then that's it." Obi-Wan sighed, carefully shifting the mess of wire off his lap. "I can do nothing else."

Teal'c gave him a steady look. "We are not at the end of our resources, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I never wanted you . . . I never wanted anyone else to be in danger because of me. If you leave now, they'll never know you were here."

"We can't do that, Obi-Wan," Sam said gently. "We know you now. We're involved. We're not going to leave you."

"But I cannot ask you to fight for me!"

"You don't have to ask. You don't have to say a word."

Teal'c raised one eyebrow. "And there are alternatives to fighting."


	5. The Burden of Protection

"Alternatives? Alternatives to fighting . . ." Obi-Wan stared at Teal'c, his chest heaving for air. "They're going to find us. We can't run far or fast enough. I can't mind-trick them . . . I can't hide us again. I'm too weak, too tired—my connection to the Force is shaky and disturbed. I will try, but I'm afraid I will fail. I'm sorry."

Sam wanted to tell him that it was okay, but of course it wasn't. It was okay with them. They were soldiers, warriors; they were used to being protectors, fighters, on the front line of the battle, on the front line of the galaxy, standing between their people and any threat that came. They were okay with needing to be the ones who took care of this situation. But it wasn't okay with Obi-Wan.

Because he was a soldier, too, and he was used to being the same thing, for other people.

And he had been fighting for so long, and so hard, against such overwhelming opposition, that he couldn't remember how to stop. She understood this suddenly, in a flash of insight that made her wonder if this was how Daniel felt all the time—insight was default for him. Those monsters at the prison with their torture and their questions hadn't only been attacking Obi-Wan.

If it had only been about him, he would have given in long ago. But he had kept his mouth shut, waited for an opportunity, and then given everything he had in a desperate effort to escape, because his silence wasn't for himself. He was protecting the Jedi, the Republic, and the galaxy.

And though he trusted Sam and Teal'c with his life, he could not trust them with his mission. It was his burden, and he would carry it until he fell. He was strong, but he had been carrying it alone for a long time, and he knew that he couldn't do it much longer. This alone caused his despair.

But Teal'c only shook his head. "That is not what I was referring to."

Sam had never seen her Jaffa teammate reveal such a depth of understanding before, his eyes so warm and generous. He already knew everything she had just realized about Obi-Wan—he'd probably known it from the beginning.

"We need to contact your Master," Teal'c continued, straightforward and completely certain. "You need a particular component to accomplish this. I will obtain one for you."

Well, it sure sounded logical when you laid it out like that.

Obi-Wan did not protest. He seemed momentarily incapable of anything but gaping. So he did.

"What does this power supply look like?" Teal'c asked.

The boy's mouth closed, then opened, then closed again. His hands rose in the air and sketched a vague rectangular shape, then dropped to rest limply in lap. His chest heaved in a bewildered sigh.

Teal'c nodded seriously, as if he had just been a given a detailed description, clear and articulate. "I will return soon."

And he was gone.

Obi-Wan looked at Sam, and for once looked like what he was—a young boy caught up in circumstances beyond his control. She would have laughed, if it hadn't been too true to be funny. Instead she smiled.

"Don't worry, Obi-Wan. Teal'c knows what he's doing. He's actually over a hundred years old, you know, and he's spent most of that time fighting one enemy or another."

Obi-Wan did not seem surprised by the age, but he did tilt his head in curiosity. "Yes, he let me touch his mind last night, and I felt the depth of his experience. I have rarely encountered such. But in the past . . . he fought on the side of your enemy, didn't he?"

Sam nodded. "He is shol'va to them now—traitor, outcast. The Goa'uld enslaved his race, making themselves gods over them, and he fights for freedom. Even when he fights alone, when his own people don't believe him."

"He is an extraordinary man."

"Yes, he is."

Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, gazing with unfocused eyes down the slope in the direction Teal'c had gone. His pale, bruised face was thoughtful and intent. "He's heading toward the patrol," he murmured.

"Obi-Wan . . ." Sam scooted a little closer, hesitantly reaching out.

"I don't . . . I can't sense his plan, I . . ."

"Obi-Wan." Sam laid a hand on his arm and very carefully wiggled it.

"I . . ." He blinked, and looked at her, his face strained. Too near to breaking . . .

"Obi-Wan, you're exhausting yourself even more. Let go, all right? Teal'c is fine. Nothing bad will happen to him if you let down your guard for a few minutes. I promise."

"But he might . . ."

"They won't catch him. They won't even see him."

"They might." Oh, he was so breathless. So weary, so determined, so defiant and scared.

"They won't."

_Come on, honey, understand what I'm saying here. You don't have to take care of us. We're new to this galaxy, yeah, but we're not new to this._

She felt her lips quirk in a little smile, though she knew her eyes were worried. "We've been in a lot worse situations than this, Obi-Wan, and we're still here. It's all right. I promise. You don't have to try to work your magic from a mile away, or whatever it is you're trying to do."

"Just . . . just let me watch then. I need to know."

Well, it wasn't like she could stop him. Sam tried to swallow the lump in her throat, failed, then just scooted a little closer and wrapped an arm around his rigid shoulders. "Okay. We'll wait together."

Couldn't do anything else, anyway.

They watched. Rather, Obi-Wan watched Teal'c, presumably by use of some sort of extra-sensory perception, and Sam watched Obi-Wan, occasionally sparing a glance for the surrounding area. The forest sunlight drifted over them in dabs and speckles, unseen creatures scurried and sang, and the leaves above shifted in an alien breeze.

And Sam didn't think about the strangeness of this, of sitting under a tree in another galaxy trying to support a vulnerable teenage warrior, waiting for her alien comrade to return with a means to save them all. This was a relatively normal moment for her, all things considered. The only strangeness was that she was able to find a quiet within her, to sit here and wait in utter trust, knowing that Teal'c would return soon. Usually, it was impossible for her to find this stillness, her mind always spinning, spinning, playing scenarios and concocting solutions to problems that didn't yet exist. This time it wasn't Obi-Wan transferring his calm to her, either. This was her trying to return the favor.

X

Why did every culture that had progressed beyond the living-in-tents stage (and some that hadn't) have politicians? Jack hated them, loathed them with every molecule of his crotchety old-man heart. Leaders were cool. Tonane: awesome. Hedrazar: equally wonderful. Every-politician-they-had-ever-met-ever: horrible. When he'd first started exploring through the Stargate, he'd been marginally hopeful that Earth politics was the exception, and other people got along just fine without them. But he hadn't been particularly surprised to discover that Kinsey had littermates all over the galaxy, apparently all having been given birth by the same dirty, unkillable cockroach. And he was sure there would be even worse experiences in the future.

But this guy, right now? Definitely at the top of the hate list.

"So, you're from another galaxy," the mayor or governor or chieftain or whatever said with a smarmy little politician smile. "And you came here through a . . . big stone ring."

"That's right," Daniel nodded. "We call it the Stargate. You don't have any legends or traditions about something like that? Stories about even, oh, monsters coming through it? Or gods?"

"It sounds fascinating. Well, I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have some urgent matters to discuss with my council. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Jack said with a smarmy smile of his own. "We understand that you must be very busy."

"I have a few other guests waiting as well. Perhaps you'd like to join them? I'll have you escorted to the reception lounge."

The Tau'ri smiled and nodded, utterly polite and utterly insincere. A bored-looking functionary led them out of the lavish office and down another elegantly-appointed hall. Jack resisted the urge to smash a decorative vase, just to see what would happen.

They had met a lot of different reactions in their travels—curiosity, hostility, awe, defiance, hope. But never such condescending indifference. This politician obviously had no interest in anything that didn't serve his immediate purposes. Someone once said "The opposite of love is apathy," Jack remembered, and he knew it was true. But how could anyone listen to one of Daniel's eager, impassioned speeches, such as he had just given in that stupid office, and not react with _something?_ Even if it was bewilderment, disgust, or downright dislike?

Maybe it was an election year.

There were a couple of other people in the reception lounge, waiting for an audience with the big cheese. The man looked pretty normal, except that his skin was pale green, and his hair was butter-yellow and didn't appear to have been dyed. The other one was a kid, maybe nine or ten years old by Earth standards, and he had a tail. Both were wearing clothes an awful lot like Obi-Wan's.

"Greetings, visitors," the man said, not waiting for the functionary to make introductions. He stood in order to give them a deep, respectful bow. "I am Jedi Master Nik'lai Hayde, of Coruscant. This is my Padawan, Lindle Motanu. It is a great pleasure to meet representatives from so far away."

"Pleased to meet you," Daniel said, his eyes wider than a six-year-old's on Christmas morning.

Jack greeted that sparkly-eyed wonder with the affectionate welcome he would give an old friend long missing and thought to be lost forever. But only in his head. "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, and this is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Ah." The Jedi nodded gravely. "You are a healer, Master Jackson?"

"Uh, no, sorry. A seeker of knowledge, only. A student of the past, a learner of stories. And please, call me Daniel."

"Even better." A pleased grin spread across his face, and the little Padawan—who had been visibly struggling to keep his attention on the boring adults—perked up immediately. "I myself am a great collector of stories."

"But that's not what we're here for right now," Jack said hastily, eager to interrupt what would surely be a very interesting, very fruitful, and very long exchange of cultural heritage.

Hayde tilted his head slightly to one side. He seemed to have a few extra joints in his neck, because the gesture looked more avian than humanoid. "Yes. I understand."

The Jedi waited for the functionary to leave and close the door behind him, then nodded to the boy at his side. "If you please, Lindle."

The Padawan flicked his blue eyelashes and grinned, then began darting hither and yon throughout the room, sometimes pausing for a moment as if to listen for something, then moving on. In moments, his long, nimble fingers had collected several small devices, and one large one. He even leaped to get one from the drapes, and his short little hop carried him much higher than a similar action from a human would have managed.

When he finished, he held the devices in his hands and stared at them intently for a few seconds. Any little indicator lights that were visible immediately winked out. Then the youngster turned and placed his fistful of electronics in his Master's hand with the air of a child who had just finished a scavenger hunt and completely blown away the competition.

"Here they are, Master Nik'lai."

"Are you certain that this is all, Padawan?"

"Yes, Master."

Hayde nodded, satisfied with this simple answer, and ruffled his apprentice's feathery blue-black hair. "Well done." He looked at Jack and Daniel, his face serious again. "We can speak freely now. Would you like to sit down?"

Jack had to admit that he was quite willing to do so.

"We have urgent matters to discuss," the Jedi said, taking a seat himself, though he seemed unable to relax.

"Yes!" Daniel said. "We . . ."

"You may be in danger here," Hayde continued.

"Well, y—huh?" Jack sat up a little straighter. "Are you talking about Commander Grumpybutt, or the politico who was totally ignoring us?"

A yellow eyebrow twisted quizzically, but this guy caught on fast. "Both, I believe. I sense ill intent toward you both, but especially directed at you, Daniel."

"No, really?" If sarcasm was a monument, those two words would have been visible from space. "Geez, Daniel, why is it always you?"

"Because I have ineffable allure?"

"I think it's because you're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and people want to bite it off."

Nik'lai Hayde shook his head. "I don't believe it is Daniel's fault at all, Master O'Neill."

"No." Jack sighed. "It usually isn't."

The Jedi seemed confused again by the self-contradiction. He obviously didn't know what to make of these two Earthlings. But then, Jack usually didn't know what to make of them, either.

"I don't think you fully understand the situation," he said instead. "Several weeks ago, the Jedi Council sent a team here to Nalucia to investigate rumors of civil unrest. This team consisted of Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of our most skilled and successful teams currently in the field. They're especially suited to matters of negotiation and peacekeeping, and the Council believed they could handle the situation on their own.

"Unfortunately, this proved not to be true. At first they could find no cause for the rumors, save for a vague uneasiness among certain leaders. These seemed to have some hostility toward the Republic itself, but Master Jinn could not ascertain the reason. Then Padawan Kenobi vanished, obviously abducted."

"Obviously," Daniel echoed, and opened his mouth to speak on.

But Hayde seemed to think now that the best way to avoid being confused by them was just to keep talking. "The Council sent me to help Master Jinn search for his apprentice. I'm especially skilled at sensing motives and discovering past events. My Padawan is a bit young for such a dangerous mission, but I have not let him out of my sight since we arrived."

He gave Lindle a fond smile, and the little apprentice, lounging bonelessly over the back of a piece of furniture and ignoring the conversation, returned a luminous grin.

"I will suffer no one to harm him," Hayde said gravely, looking at the men again. "Lindle is precious to me. As indeed, all Masters feel protective of their Padawans. I have seen Qui-Gon's anguish for Obi-Wan, as well as he hides it. It is a terrible thing, to fail in this duty of protection."

"We'll find him, Master," Lindle said confidently. "Just like last time."

Daniel opened his mouth again, but this time Jack cut him off. "Why do you think that _we_ are in danger? We're not even from around these parts."

"It is a puzzle to me, as well. But while you were in the office, talking, I could feel the malice in this place begin to focus on you, and now it is almost hard enough to cut. In fact, I believe that these politicians had something to do with Obi-Wan's abduction, though they claim that it was a splinter group hostile to all forms of government, including their own. Qui-Gon is currently using our starfighter to scan the area for hidden signals and buildings. These people are hiding something—probably many somethings."

"Is he maybe doing that in the forest a few hours' drive to the west?" Jack asked. "'Cause if he is, he's a lot closer to your missing kid than you think."

Hayde quirked his eyebrow again. "But how do you . . .?"

"We saw him!" Daniel finally burst out, succeeding in releasing the words that had been bouncing in his mouth like excited children. "We know where Obi-Wan is!"

The Jedi Master's eyes widened, and the little Padawan popped up in attention.

"Well, we know where he was a few hours ago," Jack amended.

After that, he just gave up and let Daniel talk.

X

"Sam, I'm . . ."

Sam's heart lurched in her chest. Even last night when he first woke in the cave, disoriented and in pain, surrounded by strangers—even then, Obi-Wan's voice had not been so faint. So close to fading altogether.

"What?" She leaned closer, watching only him, now. "Obi-Wan? You're what?"

She made a conscious decision not to shake him again.

"I'm . . . I'm slipping."

"No, don't!" She wrapped her arm more tightly around him, no longer careful of the wounds she knew marred his back. "Obi-Wan! Don't do that."

Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered shut, then opened again on the trail of a sigh. "I can't watch any more," he murmured. "Even that is out of my reach now."

"Oh." Sam sat back a little, blinking. "Well, that's okay. Don't scare me like that. We'll be fine."

He straightened his back, firming his resolve once more. "Yes. We'll be fine."

They both sounded so confident that if he didn't believe her, she surely ought to be able to believe him.

Fortunately, neither of them had to believe for much longer, Only a few minutes later, both were able to see Teal'c climbing back toward them, cradling something in his hand. He looked pretty smug, for a Jaffa.

"Is this the device you require, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

He revealed the object in his hand with what would have been a flourish, if this hadn't been Teal'c, who never, ever flourished. Ever.

Obi-Wan blinked at the object. "That's not a power module," he said neutrally. "That's a communicator."

"Will it serve the purpose?"

"Yes. It will serve admirably."

Obi-Wan accepted the communicator from the Jaffa's broad palm and considered it for a few moments, then started fiddling with dials, switches and buttons. He explained himself for their benefit. "They're probably monitoring all communications channels. A direct broadcast to my Master's personal comm would give us away, but the Jedi have an emergency frequency, low-grade and seldom used on most civilized planets. I'm setting the communicator for short, timed bursts along that frequency. They won't notice it, hopefully, but my Master will. If he's watching, waiting for me to signal him. As I know he is, even though it's been . . ."

He paused and looked away, over the trees. "It's been a long time," he finished at last. "I lost track of the days."

Obi-Wan flipped one last switch. "There. It will serve as a homing beacon." He propped the communicator against the tree trunk, then gazed back over the trees. "All we can do now is wait."

Teal'c nodded, visibly digging his heels into the ground. "And while we wait, we will fight."

Sam surged to her feet, following his gaze into the trees. Obi-Wan seemed too weary to make the connection quickly, though, staring up at them without comprehension. "No alternative?" he asked. His voice did not waver, but Sam thought it probably should have.

"Several patrols are approaching our position from various directions," Teal'c confirmed. "There is, indeed, no alternative."

"Canoids?" Sam asked.

"All four."

Obi-Wan finally got it. He shoved himself to his feet, hands grasping urgently at their sleeves. "Go! They are not following your scent, only mine. Lose yourself in the forest and rejoin your teammates. By now they may need rescuing, too. Don't sacrifice them for me."

Sam was not swayed by this subtly manipulative appeal, either. "We already told you that we're not going to leave you, Obi-Wan. You might as well get used to it."

She would never abandon a friend to the enemy again. Obi-Wan was theirs now, theirs to protect, and SG-1 left no one behind.

He pulled at their jackets in frustration. "I am a Jedi! You have no need to take my part in this—you never did! You are strangers here. You don't understand what they will do to you. Go! I'll watch your backs!"

The kid was starting to sound seriously panicked now. And the hell of it was that he wasn't scared for himself, but for them. Sam rolled her eyes, then turned abruptly in his grasp and grabbed his elbows, forcing him to look at her.

"Obi-Wan, when this is all over, remind us to tell you about the times we've been captured by our enemies. We've all been caught and imprisoned and tortured, Obi-Wan. Heck, we've all died at least once. These guys are pretty bad, but I'll bet they don't have much on the Goa'uld. We understand what they will do to us. To you. That's why we can't allow it."

"But how can you prevent . . .?"

"Bit of a pessimist, aren't you, kid?"

Sam bit her tongue, then. She'd been accused of that herself a time or two. It wasn't going to do anything to reassure the poor boy.

Teal'c nudged her shoulder, and she stepped aside, letting him take over. He bent his head to look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Sam waited for some warrior-brotherly wisdom, or a brilliant Jaffa battle plan.

Teal'c said nothing. He just looked at the young Jedi steadily, offering . . . offering a bunch of things, probably. Something passed between them, and Obi-Wan nodded.

"I accept the gift of your assistance, and humbly thank you," he said formally, calmly.

Holy Hannah, how did these alien-warrior types manage to switch their moods like that? Teal'c could do it, too, all cold burning rage one moment and stoic concrete wall the next. Sam rarely managed even the appearance of calm in stressful situations, let alone the reality of it.

Then the three of them turned to face the coming storm. They had the high ground. Even if that was all they had, they definitely had the high ground.

It happened as they had all known it would. The first patrol that spotted them held back for a moment, urgent comm messages were exchanged, and the rest arrived. On all sides. And then advanced.

Sam held her P-90 steady, and felt Teal'c's tension at her side. She tried to stare down every blank soldier's gaze at once, tried to ignore every pointed weapon. Her wonderful gun, usually so comforting in her hand, so solid and real, felt about as useful as a twig. But she wasn't backing down.

Obi-Wan pushed out from between them, facing the enemy. His hands were raised, not in surrender, but in warning. "Soldiers of Nalucia! Do you truly wish to take on the full power of a Jedi? You know that with my freedom and a day of rest, I am now a match for all of you."

Incredibly, some of the soldiers visibly shrank back, reconsidering. But most stood firm, and one of the commander-types cocked his weapon.

"Don't think you can fool us with your Jedi sorcery, warlock! We know your tricks, and we reject your so-called power! You have no influence over us!"

The others shook off their hesitance, then, and more weapons were raised to shoulders, trained on Obi-Wan. The boy stood steady, but sweat shone on his face again, beginning to run into his collar. He was draining himself again trying to save them, damn it. But it might be the only chance they had, if he could succeed . . . even partially . . .

Obi-Wan pushed a little harder. "Do you truly wish to test me? Many of you saw me escape the prison last night. I did so easily, even while weary and wounded. Since then I have healed, and I am in my strength again. You doubt my word? Try me!"

Sam felt his arm tremble against hers and moved closer, inviting him to lean on her. He did, just a little, just enough so that they couldn't see him shake, couldn't see his knees beginning to buckle. _C'mon, c'mon, just a little longer, believe him, you bastards . . ._

She knew that they were waiting for rescue that had very little chance of reaching them in time, if it came at all. But after so many close calls and scrapes already in their fight to save the people they protected, after so many miracles pulled from the air and solutions arriving at the very last moment, she couldn't help believing that it was possible.

Perhaps she wasn't such an incurable pessimist, after all.

_C'mon, Qui-Gon. Make it! Prove yourself worthy of his faith in you! Come! Drop out of the sky! Now!_

Come now, damn you!

And slap a pair of wings on her and call her a pixie if the mental summons didn't actually seem to work. A roar echoed out of the sky above, and some kind of aircraft hovered there, then began to descend, crashing through the branches into a slightly-cleared area, making the armed guards scatter. The moment the ship touched down, the cockpit began to open, and a really tall, really strong-looking man in Jedi robes stood up and stared stonily at the forces surrounding them.

Obi-Wan gasped and sagged between Sam and Teal'c, finally running out, letting go. "Master," he murmured, and it was a wonder Sam even heard him over the sound of the ship.

Qui-Gon Jinn leaped down from his ship, and in a few strides he was standing in front of them, shielding Obi-Wan from enemy eyes and staring every last one of them down. He held some kind of metal cylinder in his hand as if it was a weapon, though Sam didn't see how it could be. Unless it was a grenade. But wouldn't that be counter-productive?

"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, representative of the Jedi Council." His voice had no difficulty reaching every ear. "Effective immediately, I'm taking these three into my protection. To reach them, you'll have to come through me."

There was a strange snap-hiss sound, and suddenly he held a beam of bright green light in his hand, extending from the metal cylinder. He held it like a sword, in a guard position across his body. Huh. If it was really made of light, it could probably deflect energy blasts. So he wasn't bluffing here.

The soldiers seemed to know it. They backed up. A couple spoke urgently into their communicators. If they all fired at once they could probably cause problems for this big guy—Was he actually taller than Teal'c? Sam's mind babbled incoherently.—but they seemed unwilling to take the risk of attacking a full-grown Jedi. Cowards. Pick on the kid, huh? Bet Qui-Gon wasn't too pleased with that plan.

Their enemies seemed to all be coming to the same conclusion simultaneously. Almost as one, they turned and faded into the trees without a shot fired.

Obi-Wan started to fall, his strength finally giving way completely. Sam reached out to catch him, but Qui-Gon was faster.

He pulled the sinking Padawan into his arms, against his chest, the rich brown folds of his robe lapping around them. "I'm here, Obi-Wan," he murmured in a voice not meant for their ears. "I'm here. You don't have to be strong anymore. I'll do it for you."

Then, finally, Obi-Wan was able to release his burden. Only this one, only his Master, could ever relieve him of it.

Sam was just glad the man had finally shown up. Took him long enough.

But all was answered now.


	6. The Yellow Brick Road

"Hey, kids!"

Jack felt a little like a cheesy game show host, standing with his arms outstretched and a goofy smile on his face, yelling to be heard over the powering-down sounds of a really big, really cool spaceship-fighter-thing. He didn't really mind that he was an enormous goon, though. He was freaking glad to see them, and he didn't care who knew.

Carter stood up as soon as the cockpit would let her—it seemed to be taking a couple of years to open—and gave him a little half-salute, half-wave as she hopped down onto the wing, then to the ground. More slowly behind her came a big robe-wearing dude Jack took to be Qui-Gon Jinn. He crouched on the wing, waiting, his shoulders oddly rigid, face intense. Jack didn't get what he was waiting for.

Jack looked to Carter, who had come down to stand next to him and Daniel. "Geez, Carter, weren't you guys cramped inside that thing? It looks like a two-seater."

"Three-seater, actually, sir. Apparently they're used for rescue operations on a fairly regular basis." She gave a little head-bob, still watching Qui-Gon Jinn. "We managed."

Then he saw Teal'c still inside the ship, moving with caution similar to Jinn's. The limp form of Obi-Wan Kenobi was cradled in his arms, head lolling on a broad shoulder. Jinn held out his arms, and Jack was pretty sure that he wasn't imagining Teal'c's slight hesitation before he carefully transferred the kid over and let the Jedi carry him down.

Jack tilted his head toward Obi-Wan. "Is he . . . ?"

"Sleeping," she said with a brilliant smile, tired and relieved. "Really sleeping, I mean, for the first time since we met up with him."

"Awesome." Jack looked back up at the starfighter as Teal'c leaped down, light as a panther, all coiled muscles rippling under smooth brown skin. He satisfied himself that the big guy didn't look injured in any way, having already determined the same of his 2IC, and went back to watching the kid. "Wait . . . you said 'sleeping.' Not doing his healing thing? He still looks all . . . rainbow-y." He twisted his fingers vaguely in the air, indicating the ugly bruises that violated their young friend's face.

"No, sir. Not in a healing trance. A lot . . . a lot has happened since we parted ways, sir."

"No kidding? All Hayde was able to tell us was that this Jinn guy had found you and was bringing you all back."

"Hayde who?"

Jack blinked. "Huh. Looks like we all have a few stories to tell."

Daniel had simply been watching his teammates and the Jedi with the intense focus he usually reserved for wall-squiggles and dusty rocks, taking them all in with silent relief. Now he gave Carter a small, pleased smile, welcoming her back, dismissing the anxiety and stress of the last few hours with nothing but the bright glint in his clear blue eyes. She smiled back, equally glad to see him well. Funny—even with all the words those two could produce in the space of time it took Jack to put together a coherent thought, sometimes they said the most to each other without any words at all.

Jinn had made his way over to them, with Teal'c most definitely _not_ hovering at his elbow, because no way did big scary Jaffa ever hover. Jack indulged himself with a good long stare at Obi-Wan's sleeping face, then raised an eyebrow at the Jedi Master. Jinn understood.

"Obi-Wan needs medical attention, but he's stable for now." The big man glanced down at the face resting against his shoulder, then looked back at Jack, his mouth set grimly. "I do not wish to stay on this planet any longer than necessary."

Jack nodded briskly. _I feel ya, big guy._ He wouldn't want to seek help from a world that had abused one of his kids, either.

"Master Hayde is prepping your shuttle for immediate departure," Daniel piped up. "He knew you would want to return to the Temple right away."

Carter abruptly seemed to wilt, weariness pouring into her body, slumping her shoulders and stealing some of the luster from her eyes. Even her shiny, shiny hair suddenly appeared to lose its bounce, laying limp and mussed against her head. "Then . . . then this is good-bye? Already?"

Teal'c stood straighter, his arms clasped behind his back, his face stoic. Daniel opened his mouth, but Jack beat him to it. "Actually, Hayde invited us all along for the ride. Seems there's a Jedi Council that would be interested in meeting folks from another galaxy. And a Senate or something like that. You know, the galactic government."

"Oh. Well. That's . . . that's good." Carter still looked a little dazed, but much more pleased. Geez, they all needed a nap. It had been a full day's worth of trouble already, and the sun wasn't even directly overhead yet.

"We're all okay with getting off this rock right away, then?"

Jack looked at each in turn. Teal'c made a satisfied little "Mmm" noise, giving his hearty consent, and the expressions on the other three told him all he needed to know.

They were off to see the wizard.

Wizards.

They were off to see the wizards.

X

Of course, the yellow brick road was never free of obstacles. They were still several steps away from the shuttle when that government guy, the mayor or chieftain or whatever, had to get all up in their face. At least the functionaries flitting around him like nervous pigeons didn't look bored anymore.

"Leaving Tholia so soon, Master Jinn?"

Gah. If Jack and his team could just bottle the oil in that voice and bring it back home, there would be no more need for talk about drilling in Alaska.

"Governor Arayne," Jinn said with incredible equanimity. "My objective has been accomplished. But I assure you, the Jedi have not abandoned this world. Someone will be sent to deal with the troubles here."

"I certainly hope that the actions of a few madmen haven't given you a bad impression of our people, Master Jinn."

"Certainly not," the Jedi said smoothly.

The politician cast an assessing eye over the battered boy sleeping in Jinn's arms. "Those who kidnapped your apprentice—and mistreated him badly, by all appearances—have nothing to do with me and my administration, I assure you. Won't you stay and let my personal healer treat him? He will receive only the best care."

"Thank you for your generosity, Governor, but I will care for Obi-Wan. Your assistance is appreciated, but unnecessary."

Though the two voices had been nothing but civil, cast low in casual-sounding conversation, Obi-Wan stirred in his Master's grip, grunting softly in discomfort. The adults fell silent, watching him with varying degrees of anxiety, and Qui-Gon Jinn's fingers tightened. Then Teal'c laid a gentle hand on the crown of the youngster's head, and his fluttering eyelids ceased their movement, his head falling back again in restless sleep.

Jinn looked back to the governor, his mouth hard. "We'll be going now, if you don't mind. An emissary from the Temple will be in contact with you, and someone will come to fetch the starfighter."

"Ah, yes, of course. I understand. I wish you all good fortune on your journey home."

"May the Force be with you," the Jedi Master said gruffly, brushing by. SG-1 followed in his wake.

Jack didn't miss the glares they were getting from a few of the functionaries, less experienced than the others at keeping their cool. They eyed the four visitors from another galaxy with barely-veiled animosity. O'Neill would bet everything in his bank account that Governor Arayne and those bastards at the prison complex were in on this thing together, whatever it was.

If Beller and Arayne hadn't compared notes already, they would soon. And then they would know that Jack and Daniel had fooled them, that they had aided and abetted this runaway boy, whom for some reason these people had chosen as an enemy. Now SG-1 were their enemies, too.

Bring it on.

X

They were in space. They were in space in another galaxy. They were in hyperspace in space in another galaxy. And they were playing a card game with a little boy who had a tail. Sam kept repeating these things to herself, just to make sure she wouldn't forget that she wasn't asleep and dreaming about the most incredible tech-toys ever.

Even as she stared, the card-chips in her hand flickered and changed, randomized by the small device in the middle of the playing area. Beside her, the colonel made a disgusted sound. Apparently his winning hand had now become a losing one. Or something. Teal'c, of course, had the perfect poker face. Or sabbacc face. And Lindle always looked gleeful, so how was she to know?

Holy Hannah, she just wanted to lay down and sleep in that side room Qui-Gon had placed Obi-Wan in, or maybe just sit next to the Jedi Master on the couch-like thing in this little ship's lounge and watch the proceedings as he was. But Lindle had insisted that they play with him. Maybe she could join Daniel and Nik'lai's chess-like game going on in the corner. Her thoughts skipping back and forth, Sam absently dropped her cards into the interference field, where they were protected from the randomizer and "frozen," but visible to all.

Lindle immediately started bouncing up and down. "Sam, Sam! You have pure sabbacc, Sam! You win!"

Oh. She looked at the cards. Negative twenty-three. Nice. She could do this. Sam kind of wanted to go back to the cockpit and stare out at hyperspace for a while longer, though. Why was it difference than hyperspace in their own galaxy? Did they access a slightly different aspect of the fourth space dimension here, or just approach it differently? How did they calculate distance and speed in this slightly altered hyperspace? Was it affected by gravity and star position? Was the entire galaxy mapped?

Come to think of it, why were there humans in this galaxy, or people who appeared to be entirely human? Had the gate-builders, whoever they were, seeded this galaxy with the human race, millennia ago, as the Goa'uld had back in the Milky Way? How far back did their historical records trace? Did they have a better grasp of the evolutionary process here than on Earth?

The questions were infinite. And another round had started while she wasn't paying attention. Sam blinked, shook her head, and tried to concentrate on her cards again. Across the room, she caught a glimpse of Qui-Gon Jinn watching her with a small smile. God, could he hear the thoughts endlessly spinning inside her head?

No, Obi-Wan had said that the Jedi never used their power unless it was necessary, and not all of them were skilled at reading minds, anyway. But sensing emotion seemed to be something they did all the time, without trying, the way regular people heard every sound around them whether they paid attention or not. Qui-Gon probably felt her curiosity and excitement, and his smile was gentle, even indulgent.

And while she was thinking about Qui-Gon and the possibility of mind-reading and emotion-sensing, Sam went ahead and hoped that he hadn't been aware of what she was thinking about him right before he showed up. She had been getting rather snarky in her thoughts, and they had turned out to be completely unjustified. Qui-Gon was everything that Obi-Wan's unquestioning faith had anticipated. Good gravy, the man had fended off entire squads of sadistic prison guards just by powering up his light-sword and saying a few words.

That was some kind of respect that the Jedi commanded. Or maybe it was fear. Sam remembered the speech Commander Beller had made outside the cave. Fear turned into hate, sometimes. Then they had chosen to take their hatred out on Obi-Wan. Even now the thought made her hands tighten on her card-chips, her mouth tightening in rage.

And she supposed that that explained why her thoughts toward Qui-Gon had become so hostile. Obi-Wan provoked instincts in her that she had only ever felt for one other person—Cassandra. Sometimes she felt a dim sort of echo of these emotions for her teammates, when they were hurt or missing or grieving—as all had been at various points in their journey together—but Cassie . . . that had been something else.

Qui-Gon Jinn felt the same for his Padawan, obviously. Sam remembered how he had turned and caught the falling Obi-Wan, once the threat had been eliminated. And then he had knelt there and clasped the boy to him, while Sam and Teal'c stood silent guard. There might have been tears, but the visitors from the Milky Way didn't see them. All that mattered was that Master and Padawan were reunited, the team was together again, and the time of fear and separation had passed. They knelt there for what might have been a very long time.

It had been entirely necessary, of course, and only ended when Qui-Gon looked up and said softly, "He's asleep. Let's get back to the city."

So, yeah, maybe Qui-Gon understood, and forgave her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Obi-Wan appeared at the lounge entrance, leaning shyly against the jamb. His hair was rumpled with sleep, his cheek creased where it had been pressed against the pillow. His eyes were uncertain, almost . . . frightened. They roved across the entire cheerful gathering of games and conversations before finding Qui-Gon and softening in what looked very much like relief to Sam's searching gaze.

Lindle greeted his friend with a joyful wave and loud "Hello!" Most of the adults gave him warm, concerned glances, looks meant to reassure. Qui-Gon simply held out his arm, and Obi-Wan slowly made his way over to the couch and sat next to his Master, his body still tense, his face caught in some old emotion that was entirely out of place in this friendly atmosphere.

"I'm sorry, Master, I know I should be sleeping, but I . . ."

"It's all right, Padawan. You can rest here."

Sam recognized the old emotion trapped frozen in Obi-Wan's bruised features. She had seen it in soldier after soldier, in the faces of her teammates, her brothers. She had seen it in the mirror. The time of trial and suffering was over at last, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite believe it. He didn't want to be alone. But he felt unable to ask for what he needed.

That was okay. They would provide it. No need for words.

With great difficulty, Sam dragged her attention back to the game. It looked like Teal'c was winning. The pile of markers next to his elbow was much, much bigger than hers, or Lindle's, or Colonel O'Neill's. Couldn't have that. Him with his smug little Jaffa eyebrow-lift—he'd never let them live it down.

She kept half an eye on Obi-Wan, though, and she knew everyone else was as well. Even Lindle, for all his apparent obliviousness, was much wiser than his years. And Qui-Gon, of course, kept both eyes on his apprentice.

Gradually Obi-Wan's body relaxed, sinking back into the cushions, and against Qui-Gon's side. Without Sam or Obi-Wan quite noticing when it happened, Qui-Gon's arm had circled around the boy and pulled him close and warm, sheltered and safe. Obi-Wan's face, too, slowly eased into peace, and his head sank down to rest on his Master's chest, eyelids drooping sleepily.

All was well.

Except that Teal'c was still winning.

X

Obi-Wan rested secure, his gaze unfocused, blurrily taking in the sabbacc game. Most of him was concentrated on listening to the steady, reassuring heartbeat that vibrated against his ear. The Force-bond between their two spirits was full and warm again, after the endless, trying days of darkness and loss. Qui-Gon was here, and he was home.

He had dreamed, of course, alone in the quiet room where his Master had placed him to sleep and heal. He had known he would dream, but hoped it wouldn't be quite so soon. His body still ached and throbbed, and he still felt the nearness of death. Most of him was not healed yet, though he was mending.

If it weren't for the kindness of these four strangers, if it weren't for their warmth and strength and caring far beyond what he ever could have expected, Obi-Wan would be one with the Force now. Though that was the ultimate goal of his life and he did not fear it, he had hoped for many more years to guard the galaxy as a Knight of the Jedi Order. They had given him those years, these people from a galaxy far, far away.

It was better to contemplate these strangers than to remember his dreams. He would have to deal with the dreams eventually, he knew. That was wisdom. He would have to meditate and understand and integrate all that he had experienced with the whole of his self. But for now, he finally had a chance to contemplate these four strangers who had saved him, and he was glad for the opportunity.

Teal'c, the tall, strong one, firm and loyal, yet open and giving to a weary, wounded boy he didn't know. It had been Teal'c's voice that had first reached him, when he was nearly frantic in his escape. The deep, booming voice had reminded him of Qui-Gon, of course—that was what had pierced through his fog of terror and flight. But there was more to Teal'c than that. He was not a Jedi, but he was a warrior of honor and power, and there was much of the Jedi in him.

It shouldn't have worked, what they had attempted back in the cave. Obi-Wan should not have been able to connect with Teal'c's spirit. Never mind how many times they had tried and failed—in the end, they had slipped hand in hand—mind in mind—with incredible ease. Teal'c's discipline and openness had saved Obi-Wan's life. As Obi-Wan watched, his large, dark friend from another galaxy won another hand of sabbacc, and the corner of his mouth flickered in the most minute of smiles, probably invisible to all but Jedi eyes.

But there was Sam, rolling her eyes and grimacing. So she had seen Teal'c's satisfaction, too. Obi-Wan felt a small, gentle smile rise to his lips. Sam, fierce and bright—she reminded him of Tahl, bold and beautiful Tahl. But she was her own person, too. Curious and passionate and eager, yet a warrior, also. She would have been an amazing Jedi, quickly elevated to the Council, for her compassion or her intelligence or her strength alone. With all three, she was a wonder.

And stars above, how her eyes had darkened when he had asked them to leave him. And how soft and warm they had been when she put her arm around him and helped him to hold on to hope. He had been closer to losing his control at that moment than at any other in the long weeks since he was taken from Tholia. He had been at the end, and she had held him together by her will alone. For that, he also owed her his life, or at least his sanity.

And then there were Daniel and Jack. Again Obi-Wan smiled softly, watching the two men who sat on opposite sides of the room. They were always aware of each other, those two. They had a bond as powerful as the one he had with Qui-Gon, not of the Force, but of time and experience and burdens shared.

Daniel, honest and guarded, listening and talking, learning and sharing. Jack, brave and cautious, protecting and scheming, holding and giving. Both had a grief that was always sharp in their spirits—Obi-Wan felt it easily, past the surface tension of their busy minds. Both hid that away in order to give everything they had to their team. The same, but very different.

Jack and Daniel, Daniel and Jack. Obi-Wan knew that he would always think of them as a unit, as he thought of the many Master-Padawan teams he knew. Even after the Padawan was knighted, there was always something of the Master in the apprentice and something of the apprentice in the Master. Daniel and Jack taught each other, even when neither wanted to learn.

Obi-Wan wanted to get to know them all better. Sam and Teal'c he felt that he understood at least as well as anyone could understand someone they had only known for a day a half—or a decade a half, which is what that day and half had felt like. Daniel and Jack, though, he would need to spend quite a bit more time with in order to obtain even a passing understanding. He hoped he would have the time.

Soon they would arrive at the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan knew that he would be whisked off to the Healers' Wing for awhile, but soon he would be back. He wondered if Teal'c would like the weapons salle, if Sam would enjoy a tour of the starfighter bays. He knew that Daniel would find much to occupy himself with, and he and Master Nik'lai would continue to trade stories for as long as they could.

And as Obi-Wan's consciousness finally began to fade into the peaceful gray of healing sleep, he wondered how Jack would get along with Master Yoda.


End file.
